


Good Girl

by sweet_ladyy



Category: Ben Hardy - Fandom, Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, British TV Celebrities RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Cliffhangers, Clueless Reader, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Dirty Talk, Dogsitter, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Drug Use, F/M, Flirting, Frankie being cute as shit, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Dom/sub, Marijuana, Masturbation, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Sexting, Texting, cursing, detailed description of female masturbation, dog sitting, implied sexual language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_ladyy/pseuds/sweet_ladyy
Summary: Reader is a dogsitter for an app called Fido, where she meets clients and their dogs to provide drop-in visits and walks. One of her new clients, Ben H. and his pup Frankie, takes a keen interest in her right away. The thing is…Reader has no idea at first who Ben H. really is.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey everyone! This is Blake from over at @sweet-ladyy on Tumblr. I am cross-posting my 8-part miniseries Good Girl, originally published on Tumblr, onto AO3 and Wattpad! I hope you enjoy Good Girl. ✧・ﾟ:* 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Ben Hardy or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized.

[ Originally posted on Tumblr at <https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/186060052724/good-girl-part-one> ]

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/c3bc816367d211f101c642c7db874251/a582b00501608b89-14/s1280x1920/3e03806e2f74d7f2c667837a0e9c7084716f4c9b.jpg)

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

🐾 Fido Petsitting — New booking request (drop-in visits) from Ben: 

Frankie (♀, 3 years, 9.1 kg)

Sixteen visits 05 July–12 July: £480, excluding service fees

_Today at 4:53 pm:_

**BEN:** Hi, Y/N. Will you be able to check-in on Frankie on July 5th through 12th? She just needs someone to take her outside twice a day, feed her, and play with her.

**Y/N:** Hello! Thank you for reaching out about dogsitting for your beagle Frankie. Yes, I am available for the dates you listed, and I would be more than happy to arrange drop-in visits! Would you like to schedule a Meet and Greet at your home, so I can meet Frankie and you can show me the ropes?

**BEN:** Are you able to meet tomorrow at noon?

**Y/N:** Yes, I am available. 

**BEN:** Great! I’ll message you my address tomorrow morning.

**Y/N:** No problem. See you then! 😊

——— 

Thursday 4 July

I never expected to find such success with my summer side job as a Fido dogsitter. Initially, I signed up simply because I like dogs and needed a puppy fix or two. Turns out, the dog owners of London are _wildly_ passionate about their pooches, and they’ll do anything—and pay anything—to get the best quality personal care while they go out of town. 

Signing up was easy. I made an account, completed a background check, and got to work making my public petsitter profile. Business started out slow—maybe one or two bookings—but as I began to gain more and more 5-star reviews, I soon found myself inundated with booking requests. Plus, it was mid-summer, and everyone was making out-of-town vacation plans—and entrusting me to care for their dog while they’re away.

“No, Mark, that’s a definite _no._ ”

I was parked outside of the condominium building of my next Fido client. My ex-boyfriend, Mark, huffed in exasperation on the other end of the phone.

“I know, Y/N, but I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow morning, and your flat is forty-five minutes closer to Heathrow than mine, so I was just hoping you’d be able to let me sleep on the couch for a night—”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” I scowled into the phone receiver. “ _No_ means _no._ I’m not letting you spend the night.”

“Y/N, please—”

“You can stop trying to make up excuses now to stay over at my place. This is the third time you’ve tried, and in case you haven’t figured it out yet, nothing’s changing. It’s not going to work.”

“Come on, seriously?”

“Goodbye, Mark.” I ended the call angrily and huffed a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Mark, my long-term boyfriend of two years and recent ex as of a few weeks ago, has been doing this all summer…calling me up at random times, blabbering about some lame reason he needed to see me again or stay over at my flat. It was pitiful. Perhaps I would have shown him more compassion, had I not caught him cheating on me with another woman.

In hindsight, it was a miracle the relationship was over. Mark had always been fairly controlling and manipulating, while simultaneously being the biggest man baby I had ever seen. The fucker couldn’t even do his own goddamn laundry. Certainly couldn’t find it in himself to be faithful, either.

I had been sad for a day or two, but I got over the breakup pretty quickly. The only bad things about losing Mark were that I had to put up with his incessant phone calls (all of which were excuses and none of which were apologies), and I was back in a sexual dry spell after two years.

I took a couple deep breaths and tried to clear my mind of Mark. Looking outside the car window, I noticed the condo building was _gargantuan,_ a sleek high-rise right in the heart of London. It was going to be exciting to see who lived here, and whose dog I was about to meet.

This latest prospective booking was for a dog named Frankie, whose owner’s name was simply ‘Ben H.’ The booking request the client had sent was not very detailed; typically, clients will include an abundance of photos of the dog in question, along with usually _very_ detailed instructions for food and care. The only details I was able to gather from Frankie’s profile were that she’s a three-year-old beagle. And her dog dad must be _very_ well-off, considering he was willing to pay nearly five hundred pounds for someone to drop-in twice a day for eight days.

Nonetheless, I made my way up to the entrance. There was an intercom system on the wall outside the door; I entered the code Ben had provided, and the call rang through.

“Yes?” the answering voice said, low and rich.

“Hi, it’s Y/N from Fido Petsitting Services. May I come in?”

“Yes, I’ll buzz you up!”

The main door to the apartment building unlocked. I opened the door and took a look around. Even the lobby area was fancy. I took the lift up to the fifth floor, and once I reached the client’s door, I knocked—and an ensuant howling bark from the other side made me smile. Beagles are _so_ chatty. 

The door opened. A blonde-haired man donning a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie answered the door, smiling with kind eyes that widened as he took in the sight of me. My own eyes widened; he was _gorgeous._ He held a wiggling, whining beagle in his arms, who was craning with all of her might to greet me.

“Hi, are you Ben?” I asked with a friendly smile, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you! This must be Frankie!”

“Yeah! You’re Y/N?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered—before realizing he couldn’t be more than a few years older than me. Sure enough, the man chuckled and waved me off.

“No need for any of that. It’s just Ben. Anyway, nice to meet you! Come in, come in,” Ben said, shaking my hand. He looked young—maybe late twenties—and was _very_ good looking. Unignorably so. Yet I forced myself to look away and around at the condo as he stepped back and held the door open for me to enter. 

It was a nice place, high-end and spacious, but it definitely read as a bachelor pad if I’d ever seen one. It was sparsely furnished, the bulk of the living room space taken up by a large couch and an even larger flat-screen TV. The decor was minimalistic yet chic, and the only clutter in the flat was the various assortment of dog toys scattered across the ground. 

“Okay, I’m going to let her down,” Ben said after shutting the door. “I would, uh…brace yourself for an onslaught.” He held Frankie up to his eye level and spoke to her with an authoritative tone. “Now, you better be on your best behavior for the nice lady, okay, Frankie?” 

Frankie just whined a bit and licked his face. “Good girl,” he said.

I laughed and crouched to the floor in preparation. “She looks like a very good girl.”

“Oh, we’ll see about _that_ ,” Ben chuckled as he gently set the dog down. Immediately, Frankie made a beeline for me, tail whacking against the wall, the most pitiful whines coming from her throat.

“Oh!” I exclaimed as Frankie clambered onto my lap and attacked my face with kisses. Ben laughed and groaned.

“She has _no_ manners. Point at her and tell her to sit.”

I followed his instruction, and Frankie immediately sat back on her hind legs, ears perked up and tail wagging so hard her whole body wiggles.

“She’s well trained,” I noted and scratched Frankie behind her ears before standing back up.

“We’ve been working on that,” Ben said, with the pride of a father whose kid just learned how to ride a bicycle. “Thank you for coming over. Seriously, I’m _so_ glad I found someone who’s available.”

“It’s no problem at all,” I said, grinning as Frankie sniffed at my shoes. Ben was staring at me a little strangely, and I wondered if I had food in my teeth or something. “So it’s for July 5th through the 12th, right? Twice a day, for those eight days?”

“Yep, that’s it, I’ll be back late next Friday night,” Ben said. _Why is he still looking at me funny?_ His mouth was pressed in a hard line as if he’d told a joke and was waiting for me to get the punchline. 

“Where are you headed?” I asked casually, trying to make small-talk.

“To Belfast. I’ve got a conference, a read-through, and a couple of interviews.”

“Ooh, interviews? Are you looking for a new job out in Belfast?”

“Not exactly,” he said, almost in a drawl. He spoke relatively slowly, and with his low tone and accent, his voice was like warm honey. “It’s for business. My flight is this evening.”

_I wondered what kind of a businessman he must be._ He didn’t exactly look like the corporate type; he looked more like a goddamn Calvin Klein model. 

“Well, safe travels,” I said. It was proving difficult to look away from his striking green eyes. But what shade of green? _Chartreuse? Emerald?_

He nodded and then gestured to my tee shirt. “So what about you, love? You’re at uni, then?”

My heart hiccupped. “Oh, yeah, I am,” I said, looking down to smooth the wrinkles and dog hair from my college tee shirt. “This is just my summer job.” 

For some reason, I suddenly wished I’d dressed in something different, like a fitted blouse or a sundress, instead of a holey tee shirt and denim shorts. Not that Ben was dressed any nicer than me by any means, but I just wished I looked a little better… 

_God, I’m being silly. He’s just like any other client._

“Sounds like a pretty fun summer job,” Ben commented with— _god,_ was that a wink? _No, I’m just fucking imagining things._ But it drew my attention back up to his green eyes. _Jade? No…_

“It’s great,” I said. “I mean, I get paid to have my legs get all scratched up and to pick up dog shit all day. But it’s a fun job for sure!”

Ben laughed—a throaty sort of chuckle. _Not olive green, either…_ “So you don’t mind picking up dog shit, then?”

“Nah. It’s just part of the job.”

“Well, I promise you, Frankie’s more fun than just that. She _loves_ cuddles. She might cuddle you to death, just a fair warning.”

“If that’s how I die, then I’ll go gladly,” I joked, stooping to pet Frankie again. She sat right in front of me and panted contentedly, offering me her paw.

Ben showed me where to find Frankie’s tub of food and gave me instructions for feeding her—a cup in the morning around 8 am, a cup at night around 7 pm. He assured that Frankie would be fine with only two visits a day from me. 

“I actually have a neighbor who’s able to let her out in the afternoons,” he said. “Mrs. Lovelace down the hall, nice elderly lady. She said she was unavailable in the mornings and evenings…and that’s where you’ll come in.” Ben winked—for real this time.

He indicated where I’d be able to find Frankie’s lead and harness, too, and instructed me to let her walk around outside once a visit on the grassy field until she relieved herself. Frankie has a favorite toy—a _very_ loud squeaky toy shaped like a red fire hydrant—and Ben stressed that I should place it high up on the counter when I’m not home, or else she’ll squeak it all day and annoy the neighbors. That made me laugh.

“Alright,” Ben said, showing me to the front door, “I think that’s everything! Thank you so much for coming over, Y/N.”

“My pleasure. I’m glad that I was available to help.” I smiled at him, this blonde-haired, chiseled-faced man, and I felt almost embarrassed by how much I enjoyed the way he said my name—deliberately, articulately, like he was testing out the way it felt on his tongue. 

“You must have a pretty packed schedule. I saw your profile. You have a lot of five-star reviews. You seem pretty good at what you do.”

“Oh,” I said, rubbing at my neck, “thanks!” My Fido profile was public to all potential clients, including my self-written bio, selfies with all my clients’ dogs, and all the reviews past clients had given me. It never occurred to me to be bashful about someone seeing my profile, but the idea that Ben had seen it and _hand-picked me_ among all the other sitters to have the honor of caring for his own dog…it made my stomach flutter. I didn’t know why.

“I wanted the best care around for my Frankie girl. And when I saw your profile, I thought you looked the most…”

My heart stammered as he searched for the word, looking me down and up with a thoughtful expression.

“…compassionate.”

Ben’s eyes locked right on mine. _Sage,_ I realized. _The color is sage green._

“I just really love dogs.” I shrugged and smiled. Frankie started lapping at my shin, and I bent down once more to scratch her ears. 

“I can tell. You’re so good with her.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling up at Ben. _Jesus Christ, he’s unreal._ There was a supercharged tension between him and me as we shared a gaze. I wondered if he felt it, too…he wasn’t any more eager to look away any than I was. But when Frankie jumped on my lap and went straight for my mouth with her tongue, I shrieked and averted my eyes from Ben to give the dog the attention she demanded.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, sweet girl,” I cooed at her. Ben watched with an illustrious smile on his face. He reached into his pocket and handed me his spare key. As I stood to leave, Ben agreed to book me on the app, and I promised to send him lots of photos of me and Frankie having fun. He scooped the dog up in his arms before opening the door to show me out.

“Bye, nice to meet you guys,” I said.

“You too, Y/N. I’ll see you…”

I probably wouldn’t see Ben again. That was just how the service works, usually; I would meet the clients and their dogs at the Meet and Greet, I’d do the visits for the duration indicated, I’d slip the spare key under the mat when I was done, and I’d get paid through the app. Unless Ben decided to book with me again, I likely wouldn’t ever see him again.

“I’ll see you around,” he finished. Something about his expression told me that he probably intended to make that happen. 

“Sounds good.” I waved goodbye and headed off on my way.

———

🐾 Ben H. has agreed to have you sit Frankie on Fido™! Confirm booking ASAP.

🐾 Ben H. has requested photos during this booking.

———

🐾 Today at 8:07 pm: 

**BEN:** Hey there, Y/N. I know I just saw you earlier this afternoon, but I have a HUGE favor to ask you. Wow I feel so stupid.

It was still Thursday, a few hours after my Meet and Greet with Ben and Frankie. I was on a walk with—or rather, being _pulled_ down the street by—an overly energetic border collie named Kaz when I heard the _ding_ on my phone. Struggling to pull it out of my pocket while Kaz tugged on the leash, I finally managed to open the message on the Fido app.

**Y/N:** Sure, what is it?

Kaz spotted a squirrel down the road and nearly dislocated my arm trying to dart for it. “Jesus fuck, dog, slow down,” I cursed, my biceps straining to hold him back. With another _ding,_ Ben replied.

**BEN:** I’m on the airplane now, about to take off. I just realized I completely forgot to grab something important for my trip. It’s in a Manila folder on the bedside table in my bedroom. It’s a pretty long document, but I don’t need all of it. Do you think you could take a photo of the first 10 pages and send it to me when you go over there tomorrow morning? 😬

The grimacing emoji made me laugh, although I suddenly felt nervous—and rife with curiosity. What could he possibly need me to send him a picture of? Were they important business notes of some sort, for his conference? On his bedside table?

**Y/N:** I can do that! 

**BEN:** Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver!!!!!!!

_Ooh, seven exclamation marks._ He must have really been relieved. How important were those notes?

Kaz the border collie spotted yet another furry rodent of sorts and tried to bark it up a tree, nearly ripping my arms out of their sockets in the process. I groaned and held him back, a bead of sweat forming on my brow. I should have charged double for having the misfortune of being Kaz’s daily dogwalker. 

Ben _dinged_ me again. I checked it—and my stomach dropped.

**BEN:** Seriously, I can’t thank you enough. Please let me know how I can repay the favor. Visa gift card…fresh baked cookies…dinner and a movie…whatever you’d like. 

_Whoa._ Dinner and a movie?

Was he _flirting?_ Why would a gorgeous man like him want to go on a _dinner-and-movie_ date with his _dogsitter?_

Nervously, I typed out a reply:

**Y/N:** You don’t need to do any of that! :)

Shit, was that too casual? Had I just turned him down? I paused and gnawed at my cheek, trying to consider what I actually wanted. He was attractive and nice, but he was just a stranger. Someone who I didn’t know and who didn’t know me. I would certainly be running the chance of putting myself in danger with a strange man on a date.

But he wasn’t really a strange man. He seemed kind enough. Sure, I knew nothing about him to trust him…but he knew enough about _me_ from my Fido profile to trust me with his dog and the key to his condo.

And I had to admit, it was nice being flirted with after so many years of being romantically unavailable during my time dating Mark. It was freeing, the idea that I could let another man flirt with me guilt-free. Or the notion that I could flirt back, if I wanted.

**BEN:** You sure? I make a bloody good snickerdoodle. And there’s a lot of good movies out this time of year….

**BEN:** Ahh that came across as pushy. So sorry. Let me know how I can repay you for everything.

_How am I supposed to reply to that?!_ Panicking, I replied:

**Y/N:** It’s okay! :) Just an honest review on my Fido profile would be great! 

It would just simply be too…weird, to set up a date with one of my Fido clients. Especially after only _just_ meeting him. I didn’t even know anything about him. 

**BEN:** I can do that 😃

**BEN:** Thank you again

**BEN:** Forgot to mention, but you’re welcome to anything you want in the kitchen. Don’t think I have much, but what’s mine is yours 

_Hmm, he’s sure being friendly._ And he’s hot. And he’s a dog dad, which places him even higher up the list of “attractive men.”

Eh, fuck it. I decided to give in and be a little flirtatiously coy.

**Y/N:** You’re so nice :)

**Y/N:** Maybe when you get back, we could grab coffee sometime?

Coffee. Much safer than asking for home-baked goods or a fancy date. Ben replied in two seconds:

**BEN:** That would be great. How about Tuesday 16 July?

Butterflies fluttered in my tummy. _A date!!!_

**Y/N:** Only if Frankie can come, too 😉

**BEN:** Oh she would love that. She likes those puppachinos!

**BEN:** She seemed to like you a lot, too. She’s got an affinity for nice girls :)

He’s being _so flirty._ How many girls did Ben bring over to that man cave of his? The thought was off-putting, but only slightly. I continued on my harrowing walk with Kaz while typing a reply to Ben’s message. 

**Y/N:** Lucky for her, I am indeed a girl! And I think I’m pretty nice. Hahaha

**BEN:** Pretty and nice, yes 😊

Well that wasn’t suble at all. I liked it.

**Y/N:** You flatter me 🙈

**BEN:** I’m just being honest!

**Y/N:** For the record, I think you’re pretty and nice, too

**BEN:** Well it’s settled then!

**Y/N:** Hmm?

**BEN:** We both think the other is pretty and nice, so the laws of nature say we have to be pretty and nice together. Over a cup of coffee and a tray of fresh baked snickerdoodles

**Y/N:** Oh, is that how the laws of nature work now?

**BEN:** I don’t make the laws.

**Y/N:** Are snickerdoodles the only option? Cause I’d kill for some chocolate chip cookies…

**BEN:** I will make that happen. You have my word

A man’s word, historically, never held much value to me. We’ll see if he actually holds true to his cookie promise.

**BEN:** I gotta go. Plane’s taking off

**BEN:** Thanks again!!!!!!!

**BEN:** Talk to you soon… I can already tell you were a good pick for a dogsitter 😌

_Aw, man._ This conversation had been fun. I sent him a final text:

**Y/N:** Safe travels!

I smiled and clicked my phone off, stashing it back into my pocket—just as Kaz _rocketed_ forward toward another dog down the street! 

“Alright, alright,” I huffed. It was going to be a long walk back to Kaz’s house. At least I could look forward to getting to bed early, waking up to go check-in on Frankie…and see what this mysterious Manila folder of Ben’s was all about.

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~


	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is a dogsitter for an app called Fido, where she meets clients and their dogs to provide drop-in visits and walks. One of her new clients, Ben H. and his pup Frankie, takes a keen interest in her right away. The thing is…Reader has no idea at first who Ben H. really is.
> 
> In this chapter: Reader learns who Ben is and discovers what's in Ben's Manila folder; Ben showcases his text flirting skills; Ben may not be who he seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey everyone! This is Blake from over at @sweet-ladyy on Tumblr. I am cross-posting my 8-part miniseries Good Girl, originally published on Tumblr, onto AO3 and Wattpad! I hope you enjoy Good Girl. ✧・ﾟ:*
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Ben Hardy or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized.

[ Originally posted on Tumblr at [https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/186060052724/good-girl-part-one) ]

****~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

Friday 5 July 

🐾 _Drop-in visit for Frankie started at 7:56 am_

I arrived at Ben’s condo just before 8 am the next morning. Upon hearing the key in the lock, Frankie immediately started howling in excitement. 

“Hi, girl!” I greeted her after entering and pressed “start” on my phone to officially begin the drop-in visit. It was dark and quiet in Ben’s condo, which was a pleasant surprise. Unlike my own flat, which was perpetually noisy with the hustle bustle of London traffic, Ben’s condo was on a pretty high story in his apartment. I wanted to immediately explore the place, but Frankie was jumping up and down in a frenzy. “Okay, okay, let’s go outside!”

I harnessed Frankie to her lead and took her downstairs first thing, making sure to lock the door before leaving. As Frankie sniffed around a bit, I read back on the messages I shared with Ben on the Fido app, feeling my heart rate increase.

He’d messaged me again after he landed in Belfast, seemingly for no reason at first… Turns out, he just wanted to chat. We texted for an hour or so last night, and there was some pretty clear flirting going on as we talked about my life and my summer job. I tried to get some more information out of him about who he was, but he was being mysteriously cryptic about his personal life. Which was a bit of a red flag. Any man that doesn’t open up about his own life is hiding something. And Ben was clearly hiding something. As intriguing as it was that a guy as beautiful as he was taking an interest in _me,_ I was more than a little disappointed at how he evaded the topic of himself.

I was also a bit frustrated at myself for becoming infatuated with this guy so quickly. I had no idea who he was or what he did or what he was like, apart from the fifteen minutes of interaction we shared at his condo last night, but all I knew was that I was attracted to him, and ridiculously so. But he was my _dogsitting client._ Talk about major conflict of interest.

I cleaned up after Frankie when she was done sniffing, and we went back upstairs. She was clearly hungry upon returning and made the most pathetic noises as I scooped out her food. 

“Pup, it’s as if no one’s ever fed you before!”

She cocked her head and whined in response. I chuckled and placed her food bowl down on the mat. As she ate, I meandered my way through the condo. I was intrigued to see more of it—the mysterious man cave of the mysterious businessman “Ben H.” 

The view from this story was _spectacular._ Ben had a couple of plants by the windowsill that looked well tended to. The only photo I could find in the sitting room was a framed picture on the coffee table—and at the sight of it, my heart absolutely sunk to the floor.

_He has a boyfriend?_

I ran my hands through my hair angrily, studying the picture. _God, I am so stupid._ I couldn’t believe I got my hopes up for a date with a mysterious man when he just turned out to be, _quite_ _presumably,_ completely unavailable. 

Unless I was interpreting this photo wrong. Maybe they were just friends…? No, nope, there was no way two guys who were _just friends_ were posing like _that_ for a photo. I huffed in disappointment, but mostly at myself for getting my hopes up about Ben H.

But the object they’re holding… I narrowed my eyes, trying to discern what exactly it was. It looked like a trophy of sorts. _Maybe there’s more here than meets the eye…_ only it seemed pretty clear what was implied in the photo. 

_Whatever. Fine. Not my business. Let it go, Y/N. He’s just your stupid client._

I shook my head and placed the photo back on the coffee table. I needed to find Ben’s bedroom and send him a photo of that document he asked me to send. Down the hallway of the condo, I found three doors. The first of which was the bathroom—which was slightly messy, as if he’d cleaned it in a hurry just prior to leaving—and the second was a storage closet with spare sheets and towels. I finally reached the third door, which was propped open to reveal Ben’s bedroom.

It was a cozy room with a queen-sized bed, adorned with a disheveled, microfiber blanket atop navy blue bedsheets. A small dog bed for Frankie sat beside his against the wall. A large east-facing window let rays of crisp morning light shine through the blinds. There was another, smaller flat-screen TV on a wooden dresser, presumably so he could play video games in bed. Sure enough, he had an Xbox along with a stack of game CDs, the holy grail of which being _Fifa 19_ at the top of the stack. There are a few posters on the walls, mostly rugby-related, and a set of iron barbell weights in the corner.

Immediately, I spotted the Manila folder of interest on the bedside table. I picked it up—it was heavy and thick, surprisingly so. _God_ , the document in there must have been hundreds of pages. Luckily, Ben had said he only wanted with only a few papers inside. Hesitantly, I flipped open the folder. It was…

…a script?

I scanned over the script for more information. It was for a movie, it seemed, a movie that was yet to come out. Yet to even be _filmed._ The header information at the top of the script indicated the actor’s name for the role designated in the script…

_Ben Hardy._

My mouth fell open. Ben Hardy…

My eyes fell on something else sitting on the bedside table. It was a small picture frame… with a photo of Ben and a group of mates, all crowded around…

Around a well-known gray curly-haired rock guitarist.

The realization hit: “Ben H.”…

_…He’s Ben Hardy! He’s an actor! Bohemian Rhapsody! X-Men! Eastenders!_

I ran my hands through my hair and exhaled a chuckle. _God! How could I have overlooked that?!_

Ben H. was Ben _Hardy_. This was _Ben Hardy’_ s condo. That meant Ben Hardy’s dog’s _life_ was in my hands for the next eight days. 

I was frozen in place, trying to process it all, when my phone _dinged_ with a Fido message from Ben. 

**BEN:** Were you able to find the folder? If it’s not there, don’t worry about it, I’ll figure something out. 

_He’d accidentally left his movie script behind,_ I realized. Everything suddenly made sense. He’d said he had a read-through…like a _movie script_ read-through. And a conference…a press conference? Interviews…with a movie cast he’s part of?

Why did he want to keep his profession—and his fame—a secret from me? Certainly, he would have thought about telling his dogsitter who he is? Perhaps it was on _me_ for failing to recognize a world-famous actor. Yeah, that was _definitely_ my bad. _I am so unobservant. How could I have not recognized celebrity actor Ben fucking Hardy…_

I finally cleared my head long enough to remember that Ben was waiting for me to send the first ten photos of the script. So I opened my phone’s camera and tried to hold as still as possible for each picture to make sure they weren’t blurry, before attaching them all to the messenger system in the Fido app and sending them to Ben. During this, Frankie finished her morning meal and came ambling into the bedroom, flopping down on her dog bed and looking up at me with the most expressive of eyebrows.

Not seconds after the photos went through, Ben replied:

**BEN:** Thank you thank you thank you

**BEN:** I promise you, a metric ton of chocolate chip cookies are in order

**BEN:** And a million coffee dates

**BEN:** Literally anything you want, it’s yours

I smiled and shook my head in dismay. It felt almost overwhelmingly embarrassing knowing that a literal _movie star_ was still flirting with me over the Fido messaging system. Suddenly, everything was beginning to make sense. _This_ was why Ben was being so cryptic about who he was. He was a famous actor, and he was probably reveling in the knowledge that there was someone out there who had no idea who he was. Maybe _that’s_ why he’d been looking at me so funny in his condo yesterday when we’d met. He was waiting for the recognition to sink in.

**Y/N:** It was no problem at all! I’m happy to help 😊

**BEN:** Oh, I should mention…you probably shouldn’t do anything with those pictures. We both could get into a lot of trouble. I hope you understand.

The script. It wasn’t released yet. The notion that I, mediocre dogwalker college student Y/N, could singlehandedly leak the script to a new hit movie starring Ben Hardy, made me snort with laughter.

**Y/N:** Don’t worry, I deleted the photos!

**BEN:** You’re the best.

Frankie whined at me and darted out the door to Ben’s bedroom, returning with a small tennis ball. She play-bowed and wagged her tail. I couldn’t possibly say no to a face like that, so I made a lunge for the toy. Frankie scampered away from my grasp back into the living room, and I groaned and followed her. She continued to evade my grasp for the ball, while simultaneously taunting me to take it from her. She had this big brown eyes that seemed to glimmer at me, as if she was saying, “No take, only throw!” I took a couple of pictures and videos to send to Ben while she and I played.

The photograph of Ben and his supposed “boyfriend” caught my eye again, and I realized then that I actually recognized the bearded man. He’d also been in the _Bohemian Rhapsody_ cast photo with Ben and Brian May. A Welsh guy, with a Welsh name… he’d played the guitarist in the movie. Gwilym something, I thought.

But unless I was mistaken yet again, I was pretty sure now that the other man _wasn’t_ Ben’s boyfriend or anything. Especially now with the knowledge that they were coworkers. Relief flooded my bloodstream. It was probably just a silly photo between two friends. And with the current indications Ben was sending through the flirtatious nature of his texts, he was _definitely_ into girls.

I finished the drop-in visit and told Frankie goodbye before shutting and locking the door behind her. On my way out, Ben replied to the photos of Frankie I’d sent:

**BEN:** She looks so happy! You’re so good with her :)

**BEN:** I’m glad I found someone trustworthy to take care of my little girl while I’m gone!

I smiled at my phone while I made my way back out to my car. It hit me again that I was dogsitting for a _celebrity._ It was a bit nerve-wracking, sure, but it was also exciting. Most people would be lucky to see a famous actor walking down the street, maybe even lucky enough to get his autograph. I was lucky enough that he selected me as his _dogsitter._ Not to mention the fact that Ben had taken it upon himself to try his hand at flirting with me…and had even asked me on a _date._

_God._ I felt dumb. I had played _coy_ with _Ben fucking Hardy._

_Ben fucking Hardy is taking me on a date._

I giggled to myself and pressed my hands to my eyes. My stomach fluttered. Even though now that I knew his name, it was still a bit alarming that I knew virtually nothing about this British actor. That needed to change. I needed to figure out who I was dealing with. He was _Ben fucking Hardy…_ but who was he really? What was he like? What was his reputation? What were his…intentions? Was he just looking for something casual? Or something more?

I thought of Mark, of the two years we were together. Of the long-awaited relief of not being tied down. Did I really want to start something up with someone new so soon after my newfound freedom?

———

The rest of the day was jam-packed with various dogsitting walks and drop-in visits, errands, and some much-needed clothes shopping. If I was going on a coffee date with _famous actor_ Ben Hardy, I needed to find a suitable outfit—something cute, yet not too formal. I ended up finding a perfect outfit; a navy and white striped jumpsuit with a V-neck that showed off the perfect amount of cleavage. It was probably a little too dressy for a coffee date—a realization that came to me only _after_ purchasing the outfit—but perhaps I’d wear it anyway

I wondered when—or if—Ben was going to bring up the fact that he was famous. He hadn’t messaged me on Fido again the whole rest of the morning or afternoon. I was dying to tell him that I know. But I didn’t want to be weird about it. He was probably sick and tired of star-struck fans being weird around him. I needed a casual, yet pointed way of telling him I figured out who he is. 

So, naturally, I send him a meme.

🐾 Today at 3:41 pm:

**Y/N:**

It was probably a bad idea to send a client a stupid meme, especially unprompted, but I thought it was pretty funny. Apparently, so did Ben.

**BEN:** hahahahahaha

**BEN:** Did you seriously just send me a meme?

_So he appreciates memes. That’s a good sign._

 **Y/N:** Did you laugh ?

**BEN:** Yes, it was a good meme

**BEN:** You seriously didn’t recognize me?

**BEN:** Ahhhh sorry that came across wrong, I didn’t mean to sound like a prick 

**Y/N:** Haha it’s okay. No I didn’t. I’m pretty embarrassed about it actually 🙈

**BEN:** No it’s okay. Honestly it was kind of relieving

**BEN:** Gotta go, script reading. Sorry I’m so busy over here…that’s movie biz for you. You know you saved my ass right? 😅

I smiled and bit my lip. I’d never known anyone famous before, much less gotten to a point where we could comfortably text each other the way Ben and I were. But I had to keep reminding myself that we were still texting via the Fido app. He’s still my client. I have an obligation to take care of his Frankie.

In between running errands and my dogsitting job, I was able to do some surface-level research on this Ben Hardy. AKA Ben Jones, a discovery that had me doing a double take. _Ben Jones? Yep, that was his birth name_. Age 28, lived in West London—yep, I could confirm that now that I’ve been to his condo. He grew up in Sherborne, and in school he was both a drama geek _and_ a rugby athlete before getting injured and committing to acting. He’d clearly found much success on that front—and in modeling, _oh sweet baby Jesus,_ were there a _lot_ of modeling shots. I had to stop myself from saving all the shirtless photos on my phone for later. 

Ben wasn’t really an open book on social media, it seemed, although it was immediately evident that he remained very close friends with his costars from the _Bohemian Rhapsody_ movie. Despite the silly Instagram photos and speculation articles, the public information on Ben’s private life was less than comprehensive. Which was great—it was nice to see a celebrity who took care of his public image. But if I was going to go on a date with the guy, I needed to know what his _thing_ was, what he was like.

So I made the decision to see what Paige, my best friend and roommate, could uncover. Paige was crazy about the rock band Queen, and knowing her, she probably had more details on the actors of the biopic than the average fan.

I texted her while sitting in my car outside Ben’s condo: 

**** **Y/N:** **_There’s no easy way to preface you for this, so I’m just gonna throw you in the deep end…_ **

**Y/N:** **_One of my dogsitting clients is Ben Hardy. The actor. And we’re going on a coffee date sometime in a few weeks. Lol_ **

Three bubbles appeared while Paige typed her reply: 

**Paige: NO FUCKING WAY. YOU’RE LYING.**

I sent her a photo of Ben’s dog Frankie, giggling while she keyboard smashed in response.

**Paige: BEN FUCKING HARDY?? 🤤**

**Y/N:** ** _I’ll tell you everything soon_**. **_Do you know anything about him? What’s he like as a person? Is he a fuckboy? Is he dating someone_**

Paige doesn’t hesitate—it was as if she knew off the top of her head. 

**Paige: Rumor has it that he is a fuckboy. I think he and his long-time gf broke up a few months ago. I gotchu fam. I’ll do some digging. I CAN’T FUCKIN BELIEVE THIS !!!!!!!**

Nor could I, honestly.

I felt a little weird about Paige enlisting herself to “do some digging.” It felt weird and stalkerish when she worded it like that. I wasn’t interested in stalking his private life or anything…just in making sure he was single, and his intentions with me weren’t fuckboyish.

When 7 pm rolled around, I returned to Ben’s condo for my second drop-in visit for the day with Frankie. She was, as expected, overjoyed to see me, and I took her outside and fed her with no problems. I sent lots of photos to Ben through the Fido app, including one selfie, in which Frankie’s nose was right up next to the camera and I was smiling in the background. 

**BEN:** Love those pics

**BEN:** especially the selfie with you and her

**BEN:** Did you know that you are really, really gorgeous Y/N? Just thought you should know

I took a deep, shaky breath and reread the message. Twice. Three times. I felt the butterflies in my tummy, but it was an uneasy feeling this time. 

God, I was being stupid. A gorgeous man just called _me_ gorgeous. I should be excited, flattered, _honored._ Why was I having any qualms about it at all?

A person’s appearance is a powerful force, and yet, at the same time, one of the weakest. It can lead to attraction, which can make people do impulsive, foolish things. It is an illusion; it can make you believe things that aren’t really there. But it’s a fleeting thing, too, which makes it weak. It has no roots. It’s too viable to change for it to really have any true value in the realm of attraction. 

I shook my head in an attempt to clear it before replying to Ben’s message:

**Y/N:** Thank you :)

**BEN:** I’m serious. You’re so stunning I can’t stop looking at the picture

I wished I could take the picture back then. I wished he couldn’t see it any longer. I didn’t even know why. I just felt foolish for sending it in the first place. 

Whatever. It was too late now. I stood and grabbed my bag, scratching Frankie’s ears one more time.

“Bye, girl. I’ll see you in the morning!” I took one last glimpse around the kitchen area. “Oh, I forgot to fill your water bowl!”

I held Frankie’s water bowl under the filtered water dispenser on the fridge—as Ben had instructed, because apparently Frankie is too fancy for tap water—when I noticed something. 

It was a photo strip, like the ones you get at those cheap photo booths at pubs, pinned to Ben’s refrigerator door with a magnet. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. I studied the photos…

It was Ben with a woman. The first photo, they’re smiling at the camera, then one of him kissing her cheek, then both of them laughing…

_Holy shit._ I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the photo. The realization hit me with a vengeance, and I felt hot tears prickle at the back of my eyes. 

Ben had a girlfriend.

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is thanks to the terrific support of you, my readers, who interact my fanfics with your honest thoughts and genuine reviews, that I am inspired to continue writing. Without these comments, I lose motivation. I write fanfiction for free (although I accept donations at https://ko-fi.com/sweetladyy if you feel so inclined to provide); my only request for payment is a genuine expression of your thoughts ◡̈ So if you decide to write a full-out review, or add your reactions // emotions, or even if it’s just a “wow!” or just a keyboard smash, know that any and all feedback is welcomed with unfettered gratitude and with Blake squealing in excitement behind her computer screen. Thank you in advance! ♡ –Blake


	3. part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is a dogsitter for an app called Fido, where she meets clients and their dogs to provide drop-in visits and walks. One of her new clients, Ben H. and his pup Frankie, takes a keen interest in her right away. The thing is…Reader has no idea at first who Ben H. really is.
> 
> In this chapter: Paige consoles Reader's heartbreak with THC oil and a night on the town; Ben is, again, not who he seems; Ben and Reader work through their miscommunications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey everyone! This is Blake from over at @sweet-ladyy on Tumblr. I am cross-posting my 8-part miniseries Good Girl, originally published on Tumblr, onto AO3 and Wattpad! I hope you enjoy Good Girl.
> 
> ✧・ﾟ:*
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Ben Hardy or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized.

[ Originally posted on Tumblr at [https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/186060052724/good-girl-part-one) ]

[](https://66.media.tumblr.com/f4d4525633ec1ff593bf14358b86b406/b3c9fdcb73fd26b8-ca/s1280x1920/c68eeb5cdb79df8859026bd928f68f590730b102.jpg)

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

Saturday 6 July

I carried out the morning and evening drop-in visits for Frankie as scheduled, but I didn’t message Ben on the app except for what was absolutely necessary. He tried texting me to chat about life the way we had before, but he seemed to catch on when I started sending terse, one-worded responses. I didn’t want anything to do with Ben Hardy any longer that wasn’t purely business. I was just his Fido dogsitter for the next few days. That was it. Nothing more.

Especially knowing now that he had a girlfriend.

Truly, if I really dug deep into my feelings, I was pretty torn up about the discovery. It’s that sickening feeling of deception and humiliation, as if I’d been slapped across the face with the knowledge that I’d been played just like a game.

Maybe Paige had been right. Maybe Ben Hardy really was just a fuckboy of a celebrity.

“Her name is Lily, Lily something,” Paige read solemnly from the blog webpage on her phone. “Some random girl, a student from U of L. They met on Bumble. Apparently, she was telling everybody on Twitter that they hooked up… She added screenshots and everything. It’s the latest discourse on this celebrity blog—”

“Ugh, I don’t want to hear about it.”

I rolled onto my back on Paige’s bed and let out a huge sigh. It was Saturday night, and I’d finished all of my dogsitting commitments for the day. I came in through the door with a huge pout on my face, and Paige had taken notice immediately. She was my best friend, after all, and she demanded to know what was the matter. I told her all about Ben, including what I’d discovered on his refrigerator door.

Paige had done her duty and dug up as much as she could find on Ben’s personal life…only to discover he’s pretty active in the dating realm. Specifically, the _casual_ dating realm. He’d broken up with a long-term girlfriend a few months ago, and now he’s rumored to be quite the womanizer. In one article, he admitted to using Bumble to “find love.” There were a handful of bloggers claiming to have had one-night-stands with the actor—including this girl, Lily, whose face I recognized from the photo booth photos on Ben’s refrigerator. It was difficult to determine whether the testimonies were true or not. 

But in retrospect…I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t surprised that Ben was into casual dating and hookups and one-night-stands. I wasn’t even surprised that he conveniently failed to mention to me that he was supposedly seeing someone else. I was mostly just mad at myself for thinking I was special to him.

“Hey,” Paige said, giving me a comforting ankle pat. “Maybe the blog is lying? Maybe he’s actually single…”

“Then why would he have kept a photobooth photo of him snogging another girl on his fridge?” I said miserably.

Paige shook her head. “I don’t know.” 

“I just…he seemed so _interested_ in me. Look, I’ll show you.” I unlocked my phone and showed her the messages Ben and I had exchanged. Paige scrolls through the messages and snorts.

“You sent him a _meme_?”

“My humor is infallible.”

Paige kept scrolling. “God. _Wow._ He’s chatty.”

“I know.”

“He said he’d _bake_ for you?” She made a mock swooning gesture. “Now _that’s_ a man. Take me now.”

I laughed, but the sound was bittersweet. “I feel _so dumb.”_

“How could you have known he wasn’t single?” Paige studied me up and down. “He’s the dumb one. Fuckboys are the bane of this earth.”

“He seemed like such a nice guy…”

“Yeah, they all do,” Paige said and rolled her eyes. “That’s because they’re all pretending. He’s an _actor!_ Pretending is what actors do best.”

I covered my eyes with one of Paige’s pillows and groaned. “I should have known.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t help that he’s practically chiseled out of marble. I wouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” Paige tugged at my shirt sleeve. “C’mon. It’s a Saturday night. You should come out somewhere fun with me!”

“I’m not in the mood.” Weekend nights on the town with my best friend were always a blast, but I was being beckoned by a nice bubble bath, champagne for one, and a _Stranger Things_ marathon. 

Paige hummed teasingly, reaching into her pocket. “Hmm, if you don’t come, you don’t get a taste of the _goods_ I just bought.” She withdrew a vape pen, and I immediately recognized the color of the juice. _Dope._

I made grabby hands at the pen. “Gimme.”

“Not until you throw on something sexy and promise you’ll go out tonight with me.”

I considered for a mere half-second. “Deal.”

———

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea to go out clubbing with Paige in my current state of mind, which was heartbroken. It probably wasn’t the best idea to get high on marijuana, either.

Paige and I sat side-by-side at a booth in the far corner of the nightclub, sweating from all the dancing we’d just done, giggling to ourselves. Usually on nights like this, one of us would opt to stay sober, or we’d bring around a third party. But this particular nightclub just so happened to be literally down the block a two-minute walk from our flat. So long as we stuck together, safety wasn’t an issue.

“Oh, oh, look at this one.” Paige had found a photo of Ben Hardy, shirtless, holding two canisters of pickled eggs.

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/3778b75f78e1f4c4d0981b6e43715b6f/b3c9fdcb73fd26b8-e7/s640x960/b46e30d6f619fa3fe4283a7c247d63ca4250108c.jpg)

“WHAT? I—I just— _what!?”_ I giggled uncontrollably. The effects of the THC oil in Paige’s vape pen were hitting me in full-force. My skin felt like static on a TV. _Maybe I am a TV._

“He’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” Paige drawled. “I mean, ignoring the pickled eggs, this picture makes me wanna lick my way down his—”

“ _Paige,”_ I shrieked and shoved her arm. She just laughed uncontrollably in response. “I don’t wanna look at this. He’s hot, and he’s a fuckboy, and I’m sad.”

“Oh, honey. Here, give me your phone.”

In my reduced state of consciousness, I didn’t object when she took my phone from my hands. In fact, I was so zonked out that I didn’t even realize what she was doing until she gave my phone back. Dazedly, I looked down at the screen. A message had been sent to “Ben H.” on the Fido app:

🐾 Today at 10:38 pm:

**Y/N:** Hey sexy ;)

I stared at the phone, giggles bursting from my throat as I processed the implication of the message. I didn’t really want to giggle, because it wasn’t really that funny at all. But it _was_ funny. I couldn’t _help_ but giggle. “Paige. What have you _done?”_

She didn’t reply, just grinned cheekily.

A part of me wondered if I was supposed to be mad at her for sending a suggestive text to my dogsitting client. I was pretty sure this was something I would have gotten mad about if I was sober. But alas, I was _not_ sober, and the whole ordeal was nothing but hilarious.

“Is he—is he gonna reply?” I giggled.

“Let’s wait and seeeee,” Paige replied in a singsongy voice. 

Ben Hardy did, in fact, reply. And fairly quickly, too. I heard the _ding_ of a new message on the Fido app, and bit my lip in anticipation. Paige giggled and looked over my shoulder.

**BEN:** Hey Y/N… 😏

I squeaked and covered my eyes. Paige snatched the phone from my hands again, and I didn’t think to stop her from replying to Ben until it was yet again too late.

**Y/N:** I have a question for you :)

“What are you gonna ask him?” I demanded from Paige. She just gave me a nefarious grin, and it made me start laughing. Ben replied, and I looked over Paige’s shoulder. 

**BEN:** A question? Mm okay. Ask me anything 

Paige started typing. I didn’t even think to take my phone back from her. I didn’t even process what she typed until it was sent. 

**Y/N:** I’m wondering….

**Y/N:** Do youuu….

**Y/N:** Wanna screw?

_“Paige!_ ” The implications of her words finally sunk in. I lunged for my phone, but she moved her back to me and held it out of reach. She shrieked with laughter as she kept typing.

**Y/N:** And by screw, I mean YOURSELF

**Y/N:** GO SCREW YOURSELF

**Y/N:** Cheating prick

**Y/N:** Thats right, we know about Lily

**Y/N:** YOUR GIRLFRIEND

**Y/N:** This is Y/N’s best friend. NO ONE FUCKS WITH Y/N

I blinked, staring at my phone screen in Paige’s hands, watching the words blur and focus through my haze of inebriation. “Paige, why did you do that?”

“I just stood up for my best friend,” Paige said proudly, dusting off her hands like she’d just finished a bar fight.

“Wait…” This wasn’t right. 

“He’s probably shitting himself,” Paige guffawed. 

“Paige. That was kind of rude.”

Paige looked alarmed. “Rude? No, he was being rude to _you_.”

“He wasn’t being rude. He was being nice.” _He’s only ever been nice._

“But he was gonna screw you over, Y/N…”

I turned away from Paige, feeling weird about it all now, feeling weird in general. The flashing lights on the dance floor kaleidoscoped in my eyes as I tried to process my thoughts.

Ben had never been anything but sweet to me in the few days I’d known him. Paige was a good friend, and it was nice that she was willing to do anything to stick up for me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that her words and actions to Ben just now were a little unfounded. A _lot_ unfounded. We didn’t even know if Ben was cheating on someone. There was good reason to suspect it, but I just… I just didn’t know. 

What if he _wasn’t_ cheating on anyone? What if he was single, and he really, really liked me?

_I just screwed up everything_. 

“Can we just go home?” I asked. 

“Shoot, Y/N. I’m really sorry.” Paige tugged on my arm. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just thought you might have wanted…”

She looked genuinely regretful. I shook my head and smiled mildly at her. She was my best friend. And we were both less than sober at the moment. There’s no way I could be mad at Paige right now. 

“It’s okay. Let’s just go home.”

Ben never replied to the messages that night.

———

Sunday, 7 July

🐾 _Drop-in visit for Frankie started at 8:15 am_

_🐾 Today at 8:17 am:_

**Y/N:** Hi, Ben. I’m over here with Frankie now. She’s doing great.

**Y/N:** I want to apologize for last night. I am so sorry for sending those horrible messages to you. That was completely inappropriate and uncalled for. I completely understand if you feel the need to report my profile on Fido.

I plopped down on Ben’s couch in his condo, listening to the sounds of Frankie eating her breakfast. Paige and I had gone home immediately after the whole ordeal with Ben last night, and she’d spent the rest of the night and all of this morning apologizing to me. I couldn’t be mad at Paige; she had been pretty inebriated. Yeah, she shouldn’t have grabbed my phone and texted my client like that, but she was high, and I couldn’t blame her for what she did while she was high. Frankly, I had been angry at Ben, too. Paige just expressed her anger more upfront, while I would have preferred the more passive route. 

_Ding._ Ben messaged back:

**BEN:** I’m not gonna report your Fido profile, lol

_Whew._ I hugged my knees to my chest while waiting for his next messages.

**BEN:** You don’t need to apologize if it was your friend 

**BEN:** Was it your friend?

It was, but what difference did it make? I gnawed at my cheek and considered what I should say next. 

**Y/N:** Yeah, that was my friend Paige. But I let her send them. I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have let her take my phone and send those messages. 

**BEN:** It’s okay Y/N

**BEN:** You’re probably wondering who Lily is

I wasn’t wondering who Lily was. I knew who she was, or I had at least a pretty good sense. She was Ben’s girlfriend, or girl _thing_ , or something along those lines. But I let Ben keep typing.

**BEN:** Can I call you ?

Nervously, I agreed and texted Ben my actual phone number. While I waited for him to call, I beckoned Frankie over. She jumped on the couch, plopped down on her tummy, and rested her chin on my arm. I couldn’t resist leaning down to smoosh her face against mine, and her tail wagged. For some reason, the thought that I would be _talking_ to Ben in a few seconds, on the phone…hearing his voice aloud again…had my heart beating fast and my stomach clenching in excitement. 

My phone rang, and I answered it before the first ring ended. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Ben answered. _Ah_ , it felt so good to hear him again. I could listen to that drawl of an accent all day. There was a smile in his voice—I could hear it. It made me smile, too. I was so relieved that he was smiling. 

“Hey,” I said back. 

“How are you?”

“Good.” I scratched behind Frankie’s ears. “I’m here with Frankie. She misses you.”

“I’m sure she does,” Ben said. “She’s a little sweetheart, isn’t she? I hope she hasn’t licked your face off yet.” 

“Oh, she’s tried.”

“Well, I’m glad she hasn’t succeeded yet. I quite like your face.”

I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do.”

I wanted to reciprocate, but things felt weird. I still wasn’t positive about Ben’s relationship status. And I still wasn’t positive I’d earned an apology from Ben…or that I even deserved one. 

Ben noticed I hadn’t said anything, so he added, “This is new. It’s kinda weird, but I like it.”

“What is?”

“Talking on the phone.”

“Oh, yeah,” I chuckled. “I like it, too.” I liked his voice more than I cared to admit. It was low and resonant, yet smooth. If Ben’s voice was a color, it would be amber. Before I even think to vocalize that thought out loud, Ben beats me to it. 

“It’s really nice to hear your voice, Y/N.”

I was almost too stunned with the flattery to say anything, but I found the words. “You too, Ben.”

There was a poignant silence for a few moments, punctuated by the anticipation behind the reason Ben wanted to call. 

“About Lily…” he finally began. “She’s, um. She’s not my girlfriend or anything, if that’s what you were wondering.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted her to be. It’s just… Sometimes, things don’t work out the way we want them to.”

I didn’t say anything, just bit my lip and waited for him to continue.

“She was a girl I met online. I thought we hit it off…but we broke up last week. It was never like a, y’know, real relationship. But it could have been. She told me she wasn’t interested. It was pretty unexpected for me. But I wasn’t what she was looking for, I guess.”

I remained silent, wondering if she had broken Ben’s heart. He took a deep breath. 

“I’m not cheating on anybody. I need you to know that, Y/N.”

Relief washed over me at his words. It turned out, I just really needed to hear him say it.

“I saw pictures of you on your fridge,” I said at last. “I thought she was your girlfriend. And then Paige told me she read about a girl named Lily on the internet.”

“Ahh,” Ben groaned. “The photo booth photos. I never took those down.” There was a rustling as he readjusted the phone on the other line. “Wait, your friend read about it on the internet?”

“Yeah, on some blog. Said that Lily was on Twitter or something, posting stuff, telling everybody that she and you had…” 

I didn’t need to finish my sentence. Ben cursed quietly on the other line.

“I’m sorry,” I told Ben.

He just sighed. “That’s the thing about being…well-known to the world,” he said. “You can’t really keep things private for too long.”

“Ben,” I said, “I’m so sorry that I assumed something about you that wasn’t true. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He chuckled a bit. “It’s okay, love. If I thought someone was a cheat, I would have been a little upset, too.”

“I just feel…so bad, for what we texted you last night.”

“Well, you said it was your friend who texted me? Paige, you said?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “She took my phone, and I didn’t realize… We were both pretty high. Not gonna lie.”

Ben snorted. “You were high?” he asked, a smirk in his tone of voice. 

“It was stupid,” I said, embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have gotten high. I should have never let Paige send those messages. It’s just… I was upset, yeah. I was mad at myself for believing you were…that I was….”

I trailed off, unsure of how to word it. 

“You shouldn’t be sorry,” Ben said. He spoke the words slowly, deliberately, like he was really trying to get me to believe them. “I mean, I definitely see how you might have jumped to that conclusion. And your friend was just looking out for you, I totally get that. But I promise you, I’m not seeing anybody. Although, I’ll admit, I got a bit of whiplash last night from the way I thought those texts were gonna be going…”

“I’m so sorry. That wasn’t fair to you at all.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Really, it’s okay.”

I smiled to myself as Frankie started licking my fingers. Something in Ben’s tone was so sincere, so understanding. 

“I’m really glad we got that cleared up,” I said softly.

“Me too.”

“Sorry to hear about your ex.”

“It wasn’t really serious anyway. To be honest, I’m glad it’s over. Especially since I met you.”

It struck me again how crazy this was, that this famous actor was saying these words to me. Maybe this was a movie, and I just didn’t know I was playing in it, too. This was too good to be true.

“I suppose I should have been more upfront with you earlier. I like you a lot, Y/N.” My heart nearly stopped as he continued. “I know it’s silly because we pretty much just met, and we only really met in person once, and you’re my dogwalker and everything. But it’s true.”

I opened my mouth, but the words didn’t come out. I could feel my own pulse in my ears. 

“Y/N? Are you there?”

“Why me, Ben?” I said, almost in a squeak. “I mean, what’s so special about me?”

I worried that it was just my looks—an aspect of myself I’d never truly been comfortable with, much less knowing that a guy might like me for my appearance. And this guy…I barely knew this guy. 

What if his basis for the attraction was entirely superficial? What if it was just because he thought I was hot? I didn’t think I’d be able to stomach that. 

“What’s so special about—” Ben repeated with a laugh. He sounded disbelieving. “Is it really that hard to believe that someone could grow to like you in such a short period of time, Y/N?”

“No,” I said, a little snappily. “I just don’t see why you would be wasting your time.”

“Wasting my time?” he asked slowly. “Why would I be concerned with that?”

“It’s just—” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “People like you don’t usually concern themselves with people like me.”

“Ah, is that what you think.” 

“Celebrities date other celebrities. That’s just how it works. You’re a celebrity, Ben. And I’m not. I’m just a girl from university who has to pick up dog shit all summer just to pay her rent.”

“You know, I’m more than just a celebrity, Y/N.”

I let his words sink in, my hands twiddling with the ends of my hair.

“I’m not part of some alien race. I mean,” he laughs, “I’m a guy, too. I’m just a guy.”

“Just a guy who stars in movies and has a net worth of two million dollars.”

“Y/N,” Ben moans. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Box me in like that. That’s all people do to me. Everybody always likes to categorize. And you know what? Sometimes, I really hate being under the ‘celebrity’ category. I hate being treated differently from anybody else.” 

He didn’t really sound accusatory or angry, just frustrated. And not really even frustrated at me. He sounded like he was just trying to get me to understand.

“You’re right,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Can I admit something?” he asked. I said nothing, prompting him to continue. “When I was going through all the Fido profiles to find someone to sit Frankie, I didn’t just choose you because you had the best ratings. I chose you because I saw your profile picture. Out of all the other dogsitters in the greater London area, I couldn’t ignore your face.”

A tendril of fear wrapped itself around my throat. It was my looks. It was exactly what I feared. I breathed out a shaky exhale.

“You caught my eye. How couldn’t you have? You were so beautiful. But then, I clicked on your profile, and I started going through it. All the other pictures you added with all your other dogs, all the words you wrote in your bio. The reviews from your other clients, just absolutely _raving_ about how good you were with dogs, how diligent you were about sending them photos and updates, how kind you were.”

My breath caught in my throat as I listened to Ben’s words. I hugged my knees tighter to my chest, mostly to stabilize myself. I could hardly believe this was happening.

“I looked at your face, saw the compassion in your eyes. Saw the elegant way you wrote your words. It was just a Fido dogsitter profile, but I felt like I knew so much about you, then, based on those things. It was like…it was like I knew everything about you, and yet I knew _nothing_ about you, and I wanted to. I _had_ to. I just… I just _had_ to know you. And now, I am so glad that I do.”

“Ben,” I said shyly. My heart was swelling so large at his words that I was afraid it might burst.

“Wait, I’m not done,” Ben laughed. “So I reached out to you, and you agreed to come over to meet Frankie, and when I opened the door and saw your face…” He let out a loud exhale. “ _Wow._ All the reviews were right. I was right. You were _so_ great. You were kind, you were good with Frankie, and you were absolutely, positively beautiful…And when I realized you had absolutely no idea who I was.

“It was the first time in a while that I met somebody who I felt like I already knew…but who didn’t know a thing about me. I realized I could have a clean start with you. Do you know how rare that is, to have a clean slate with someone when you’re famous? To be able to start from scratch? To have the opportunity to make a first impression? People don’t really realize this, but first impressions are a luxury. The opportunity to make one…not everyone has that.”

I gulped. “But I figured out who you are.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t at first. It was that first encounter. I wanted to impress you, but not in the way that I normally impress people.”

“You definitely did,” I told him. “I liked you a lot right off the bat.”

“Do you still like me?”

I almost laughed. “ _God,_ yes.”

“Do you like me more now, knowing who I am?”

I thought about it. “Not necessarily. But I know more about you now. I like the idea of knowing you.”

“Okay, but do you like me more now after figuring out that I’m famous?”

“No,” I said right away. I didn’t care about that, not at all.

“Then you see what I mean. Being famous isn’t a personality trait, love. Don’t turn it into one.”

My cheeks felt hot again, this time at the prospect of being corrected. “You’re right.”

“Give me a chance, Y/N,” he said. “Give me a chance to show you more of who I am.”

“Well, Mr. Hardy,” I said formally with an exaggerated throat clear. “We’d better hurry up and get started with that coffee date, then. ‘Cause it appears you seem to know a lot more about me than I know about you.”

“You knew that my net worth was two million,” he laughed.

“I want to know more than just the things that Google can tell me.”

“There’s just a couple,” Ben joked. Then he swore under his breath. “I gotta go. Conference with the screenplay writers. Lost track of time.”

“Oh, okay, no worries,” I said.

“Y/N,” Ben spoke my name with dead seriousness. “You’re bloody brilliant. Don’t forget that, alright?”

I beamed. “I’ll try not to.”

“We’ll talk later, alright?” 

“Text-talk, or talk-talk?”

“Anything you’d like, love.”

“I like your voice,” I told him. 

“Then we’ll talk-talk,” he beamed. 

“Hey, Ben? Before you go, I just wanted to say something.”

He waited for me to continue, and my heart pumped as I organized my thoughts.

“I want you to know that you can trust me. I’m not gonna go telling everyone about us, I promise. I know I told Paige, and I regret that, but it’s not going to happen again. I’m not gonna go post on Twitter about us, or…use you to get famous, or something. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I don’t break your trust again.”

He listened quietly, and when I was done, he said, “Thank you, Y/N. That means the world to me.”

Ben ended the call, and I clicked off my phone and squealed excitedly. The emotions swirling in my chest were too much to deal with. So much had just happened…so many words were just said. I hadn’t felt this excited over a boy since I was a teenager. If I was being honest, no boy has ever made me feel like this before.

Frankie crawled on my lap and cocked her head at me. I smiled down at her.

“Your dad likes me, Frankie!” I said to her in a baby voice.

Frankie just lunged up and licked my face in response.

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~


	4. part four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is a dogsitter for an app called Fido, where she meets clients and their dogs to provide drop-in visits and walks. One of her new clients, Ben H. and his pup Frankie, takes a keen interest in her right away. The thing is…Reader has no idea at first who Ben H. really is.
> 
> In this chapter: Ben and Reader develop in their relationship via texting and talking; Reader decides to send Ben a racy picture; their texting conversation gets pretty spicy...plus a surprise from Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey everyone! This is Blake from over at @sweet-ladyy on Tumblr. I am cross-posting my 8-part miniseries Good Girl, originally published on Tumblr, onto AO3 and Wattpad! I hope you enjoy Good Girl.
> 
> ✧・ﾟ:*
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Ben Hardy or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized.

[ Originally posted on Tumblr at [https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/186060052724/good-girl-part-one) ]

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/64b03070014879070dc6fe0bab3088d3/fe3b6e6242508d4f-a6/s500x750/de1ae86f79dd7c006bd504534922012421b1bcb5.gif)

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

Ever since Ben and I exchanged numbers, we pretty much texted each other nonstop. For how busy he apparently was on his trip, he certainly had a lot of time to text. He called me again later that evening on Sunday, and again on Monday evening. We just talked, and talked, and talked. 

Ben’s admission that Lily was actually his ex and he was currently single was like opening a door for me. Where I was previously somewhat guarded with my words and cautious about his intentions, I was an open book now. I felt like I could tell him anything.

He asked me about my life, and I answered all of his questions. I told him about myself, where I was from, what my interests were, what my family was like, what my major was. When I told him I was only dogsitting as a summer job and I did not, in fact, intend to become some kind of professional dogsitter by any means, Ben wanted to know all about my career aspirations. My life wasn’t half as interesting as his, but he was genuinely curious about it anyway.

Ben told me more about himself. It felt so nice to know he was finally comfortable opening up about his life, and _boy_ , was his life a whirlwind. He talked a lot about his friends, the costars from _Bohemian Rhapsody,_ and I could really tell they were a big part of his life nowadays. He chatted about his new movie and the role he’d be playing. Ben told me he _loved_ acting, but it wasn’t the only thing he loved. Obviously, there was sports and music and traveling, but I was most surprised when Ben told me he could see himself settling down and just enjoying family life someday. I wasn’t expecting that, not in the slightest. Not from someone like _him._ And I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make my heart start racing.

Overveiling everything in our texting conversations was a pervading mutual attraction. If it wasn’t clear before that I liked Ben and Ben liked me, it was crystal clear now. It was evident in the constant banter, the not-so-thinly-veiled flirting, the suggestive comments. Ben’s words frequently gave me that fluttery feeling in my stomach. Sometimes, he would say things that would send that flutter somewhere lower. And for someone who wasn’t all too experienced in the _text-flirting_ front, I was doing a pretty good job of flirting back.

I was texting him on Monday night when Paige threw a pillow at me from where she sat across the couch. “Hey, watch it,” I giggled at her.

“Stop sexting Ben Hardy.”

“We’re not sexting!”

“It sure looks like you are.”

I wasn’t—we were just chatting about Ben’s favorite memories filming _Bohemian Rhapsody_ —but the idea of _that_ made me grin and put a knot in my stomach. I’d never really _sexted_ anybody…although some of the words we shared were beginning to lean that way. Ben wasn’t shy at telling me how he felt about me or my body. Once, I’d sent him a picture of me and my family on vacation a few years back, and Ben replied that the outfit I was wearing was “the sexiest thing ever, tbh.” Words like that sent the best kind of twists down my spine.

On Tuesday afternoon, I wore a sundress when I went to check in on Frankie. After taking her outside and feeding her, I took a selfie with her sitting on Ben’s couch.

**Y/N:** Frankie misses you! She’s doing great over here :)

I realized before sending the selfie that the sundress I was wearing showed a good amount of cleavage. But I was feeling bold, so I sent it anyway.

**BEN:** You two look cute 😍

**BEN:** I like your outfit! You’re always so adorable and stylish

**Y/N:** Thanks :)

**BEN:** Is it weird if I said I wanted to go with you to a store and buy you a bunch of cute outfits?

_Major swoon._ I smirked and replied:

**Y/N:** I’d never let you pay, but I’d love your input

**BEN:** I wouldn’t be super helpful probably, I’d think everything you tried on looked sexy on you

**Y/N:** Hmm, even a garbage bag?

**BEN:** You’d make that garbage bag look sexy, easily

**Y/N:** You’re one to talk, Mr. I-Look-Good-in-Everything

**BEN:** We should both walk around the streets of London wearing garbage bags

I laughed aloud at that, earning a confused look from Frankie. I smiled at her and booped her nose. I had an idea to poke fun at Ben.

**Y/N:** You know, you left a pile of dirty clothes out where I could see them in your room. 

I hadn’t really seen any dirty clothes; I just wanted to tease him. His embarrassment was palpable:

**BEN:** What?? I did??? Oh no thats so awkward I’m sorry, I promise I’m usually tidier, I was in a rush to leave

**Y/N:** Yeah, I’m looking at all your dirty shirts and trousers and underwear

**BEN:** Wait, you’re lying. I think you’re lying.

**Y/N:** I’m not!!!

**BEN:** Right, then what kind of underwear do I wear?

There was a 50/50 chance I’d guess correctly. I considered checking his underwear drawer for the answer, but that would _definitely_ be too weird. So I just guess: 

**Y/N:** Boxers.

**BEN:** You’re a dirty little liar

**Y/N:** 🙈So what if I am? Now I know your preferred choice of underwear, Mr. Hardy.

**BEN:** If you really wanted to know, you could just ask for a picture. 

I felt my face immediately flush with heat. I wasn’t quite sure how to proceed—partially because I’d just sent a selfie with my cleavage as the focus, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to move things so quickly with an exchange of pictures. So I played coy again, evading his implication:

**Y/N:** Nah, the easiest way would have been to snoop through your dresser drawers. But I’m no snoop

**BEN:** Go ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide 🤷🏼‍♂️

**Y/N:** Really? Nothing embarrassing at all in there?

**BEN:** Why don’t you look for yourself and find out?

Well, what’s _that_ supposed to mean? Did he _want_ me to go snooping in his drawers? 

**Y/N:** Are you asking me to snoop?

**BEN:** You’re the one who brought it up

**Y/N:** Well you’ve already confirmed for me that you’re a briefs guy, so I don’t suppose there’s anything left in there of interest to me

**BEN:** You sure about that one? 

**Y/N:** You tell me.

**BEN:** I haven’t piqued your curiosity yet? 

He certainly _had_ piqued my curiosity. Also, he spelled _piqued_ correctly, which was kind of a turn on. But I bit my thumbnail as I replied, still hesitant.

**Y/N:** …Is anything going to pop out at me?

**BEN:** hahahaha

**BEN:** No you’re fine, nothing’s gonna pop out at you

I sighed and stood up, ambling slowly to Ben’s room. Frankie followed at my heels.

**BEN:** Did you see it?

**Y/N:** Not yet…see what?!?!

**BEN:** You’ll know

I went inside his bedroom and spotted the dresser against the wall. There were four different drawers.

**Y/N:** Which drawer?

**BEN:** Just check all of them, lol

_What game is he playing at?_ I started with the top left drawer, feeling strange about it all, even though he’d pretty clearly given me permission to look through his things. All I could see was his underwear. _Yep—he’s a briefs guy._ A factoid that was surprisingly hot. The second drawer was folded shirts. The third drawer…

_Oh,_ now _it gets interesting_. I immediately spotted a box of condoms, and my face went hot again. _What size?_ I immediately think. _Regular. Okay, that’s good. Regular’s good._

A guy having a box of condoms in his dresser drawer wasn’t strange or unexpected at all, though. So was that it? I was dying to know what he was talking about.

**Y/N:** How do I know when I’ve found the thing that you want me to find?

**BEN:** There could be a lot of things I want you to find lol

I groaned. _What game is he playing?_

**Y/N:** Bennnn. 😩 what am I looking for?

**BEN:** Relax hahaha. I just think there’s something in there that might interest you :)

Is he talking about the condoms? Or something else? I decided to keep looking in the same drawer, which is evidently his junk drawer. I found a pair of reading glasses, some writing utensils, old ticket stubs, some scrap paper, some aspirin, a bottle of lube— _ooh, it’s the warming kind._

_Okay, we get it, Ben, buddy. You get laid._

**Y/N:** Give me a hint.

**BEN:** What did you find so far? ;)

I examined the most interesting finds of the drawer. It was either gonna be the condoms or the lube. 

_Ahh, I see._ He just wanted me to suffer the embarrassment of writing the words out. Well, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

**Y/N:** Meh, nothing of interest.

**BEN:** Nothing?!

**Y/N:** Nothing I can’t just buy for myself at a convenience store!!

**BEN:** Okay then you haven’t found it yet, this is something you can’t just buy at a convenience store lol

I was going mad.

**Y/N:** Tell me !!!

**BEN:** hehehe

**Y/N:** BEN

**BEN:** Okay, fine. Bottom right drawer, back left corner.

Bingo. It was the drawer I hadn’t checked yet. I followed Ben’s directions and opened the correct drawer, finding…

Roughly an ounce of weed. 

_This is it?_

Chuckling, I type out a reply:

**Y/N:** What do you take me for?? Some kind of stoner???

**BEN:** Hahahaha

**BEN:** Well I mean you told me you and Paige were high last Saturday, so I figured you might like to know we have a common interest

**Y/N:** I only do it verrrry occasionally.

**BEN:** Define occasionally

**Y/N:** Like once a month. But nice to know you have no qualms about the partaking of illegal activities lol

I remembered then that we were still messaging on the Fido app. _Probably not the most appropriate of topics to be discussing on here…_ I mentally apologized to the government agent spying through my phone screen.

**BEN:** Well, next month then, when you decide you wanna do it again, you should come over and do it with me

_Wow, he’s really jumping long-term, isn’t he?_

**Y/N:** Definitely a possibility :)

**BEN:** 😍

**Y/N:** Well, I’ve certainly learned a lot about you today, Ben Hardy

**BEN:** And what exactly have you learned luv?

**Y/N:** Wears lots of briefs, has lots of sex, smokes lots of weed

“Oh god.” I regretted it as soon as I sent it, but there was no revoking it now. I played with Frankie and her annoying red fire hydrant toy for a solid two minutes to mentally chastise myself and avoid looking at his response. Finally, I couldn’t resist checking to see what he’d said.

**BEN:** phh hahahah

**BEN:** Is that really what you think of me?

It wasn’t, but I was so relieved he took the joke well. I decided to keep the joke going.

**Y/N:** That’s my objective conclusion based solely on the contents of your dresser drawers

**BEN:** I hope I’m more interesting than just those three things

**Y/N:** Oh, you’re definitely interesting

**BEN:** Well now we need to make this even somehow.

**Y/N:** How so?

**BEN:** I’ll need to see the contents of YOUR dresser drawers

I gulped, fearing the day that ever happens. I had a number of things in my dresser drawer I would rather die than admit to having.

**Y/N:** Bold of you to assume my dresser drawers have anything interesting in them lol

**BEN:** Really, nothing? 

**Y/N:** Not really, aside from the usual bras, underwear, etc

**BEN:** Hmm I’m interested, tell me more.

I bit my lip, an idea forming in my head. A perfectly stupid idea.

**Y/N:** If you really wanted to know, you could just ask for a picture.

———

I never thought I was the type of girl who’d be in a scenario in which I’m posing in front of my dresser mirror wearing nothing but a bra and undies, but there was a first time for everything, I supposed.

Ben certainly had asked for pictures after I prompted him to, which I expected. He’s a guy. Of course he wasn’t gonna turn down the prospect of sexy pictures. But I didn’t expect the wave of anxiousness at the prospect of actually _sending him_ the pictures. 

I was wearing the only set of lingerie I owned; a blush-colored bralette and matching underwear made of eyelet lace that left very little to the imagination. Wearing it now made me sexy, empowered, nervous. This would be the first time anyone would see me wearing it. Not even Mark had seen me in it. Mark had never been a lingerie kind of guy; he found the notion of dressing in lingerie to be frivolous and unnecessary. He also seemed to feel the same way about the notion of foreplay itself. He was very much a “cut-to-the-chase” kind of guy. One of the many reasons I was glad to be free of him. So after we broke up, I bought this matching set for myself…and now I finally have a good reason to wear it. 

Was I sure I wanted to do this? Yes. Was I sure _Ben_ wanted me to do this? Hell yes. So what was making me hesitate?

I studied the photos I had just taken, selected the best one, and cropped out my eyes and nose—so it was only my mouth and everything below that could be seen. This was the smart choice. I felt like I could trust Ben, but I still had to take precautions for my own privacy.

_Could_ I trust Ben? Jeez, I’d only known him for less than a week. The man had a reputation with women, too, for god’s sake. But shit, I wanted to do this. And I wanted him to do it back.

Before I could make a decision, my phone buzzed and a notification for a new text from Ben popped up.

**Hey Y/N**

We hadn’t communicated since we texted through the Fido app at Ben’s condo earlier that day. Since I told him I’d send a photo. I wondered what he was going to say.

**_Hey Ben :)_**

**What’s up?**

**_I’m just hanging out at home! About to make mac and cheese._** _Oh yeah, that’s real sexy, Y/N_. I rolled my eyes at myself and added: **_Frankie was doing great, if that’s what you’re wondering!_**

Ben replied: **That’s good!** **Actually I was wondering about you**

_Oooh_. I settled down on my bed, watching the typing indicator bubble flash.

Ben said: **It’s about what you said earlier. About sending a picture**

My heart pounded. **_What about it?_**

Ben typed for a while, before sending a stream of messages in succession:

**I just wanted to let you know that you definitely don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable doing**

**I totally get it if you don’t wanna send anything**

**You don’t have to do anything you don’t want**

**Not that I don’t want you to, I definitely fkn do :)**

**Lol**

**I definitely do.**

**But I just want you to know that I promise I will never do anything with the pics, I’ll never send them or post them anywhere or show anybody else. I’ll even delete them if you ask me to.**

**You can trust me.**

I could literally feel the reverse psychology doing its work on my brain. It was like the knot of nerves in my stomach came unraveled, and confidence replaced it. **_Thank you so much for saying all that Ben. The same goes for me. You can trust me, too._**

**Of course :)**

I took a huge breath and said: **_So I think you should sit back and get comfortable now_**

Ben abruptly stopped replying, and I giggled at the air of anticipation in his sudden absence. A minute later, I texted him: **_Are you comfortable?_**

**Yes, very**

I said: **_You have to send me a picture first_**

**Of what, luv?**

_Luv._ The pet name had my heart skipping a beat, the way it always did. 

**_A selfie,_** I type

A few seconds passed, and then I received it. Ben did exactly as I instructed; it was a selfie, a selfie that made me feel warm all over. Ben was smoldering up at the camera with a perfect smirk, his chest completely bare. He was shirtless, and I wondered if he was even wearing pants at all. His head rested on his arm on the pillow, and I noticed the tattoo on his inner bicep: a cat’s nose, or a whale’s tail, I wasn’t sure. But I _was_ sure that it looked hot as hell.

I wasn’t sure what to send next. I typed out a lame response and deleted it, then a long stream of heart-eyes emojis and deleted that. _Ah, fuck it_. I selected the photo from my favorites, took a deep breath…and tapped send.

There were a few seconds of nothing after the photo went through. Then a “read” receipt. _He’s seen it._ I never felt so vulnerable as I did the second I realized he’s seen the photo. Then…

**Holy fuck.**

**Y/N… You are absolutely stunning.**

**I cant believe how lucky I am to have met you**

I giggled and buried my face into my pillow. _He liked it._ He continued to send text after text.

**I just**

**WOW.**

**I know we just started talking a few days ago but I am loving every single thing I learn about you**

**Fucking amazing personality, sense of humor, the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen, and your BODY…**

😍

**So unbelievably sexy**

**I wish I was there right now, jfc**

**You have no idea how much I wish I was with you right now**

_God,_ so did I. I replied: **_Thank you Ben 💓_**

He said: **No, thank YOU**

**God you’re beautiful**

**You have no idea how attracted I am to you**

I smiled so hard it hurt my cheeks as I wrote: **_Why don’t you tell me?_**

**** **Tell? Or show?**

**_Yes,_** I typed.

Ben replied: **Give me a sec**

Instead of twiddling my thumbs, I changed into a white tee and a pair of cotton pajama shorts, brushed my teeth, and washed my face before snuggling back in bed. Finally, Ben sent a photo of his own…

He was standing in front of the full-size hotel room mirror, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and the top hem of his underwear— _briefs,_ as I now know. One of his hands held the phone, the other was in his pants pocket. I stared at the photo for a long time, mesmerized by his arms, the chiseled lines of his abs, the V-line and the subtle trail of hair that led down…

To a clear outline of a long bulge in his sweatpants. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d seen a shirtless photo of Ben Hardy. But this one was meant for _me_ , and for me _only_. Ultimately, _that_ little fact is what had me inching my fingers under the blankets and under the hem of my shorts.

I typed: **_Ben… that photo_**

**_You have no idea what that photo’s doing to me_**

Ben replied with a cocky emoji: 😏

**_Ben_**

**_Seriously_**

**_You have NO IDEA._**

Ben said, **Why don’t you tell me?**

Texting Ben was becoming increasingly difficult. **_I’m looking at this photo and it makes me feel like I’m at the top of a big drop on a roller coaster_**

**_Like little flips in my tummy_**

**_I can’t think of anybody but you_**

**_Frankly, I’m ridiculously turned on rn_**

Ben didn’t reply for a solid thirty seconds, during which my breathing became increasingly erratic. He finally said: 

**Y/N**

**That’s so fucking sexy**

I wanted to know what he was doing, what he was thinking…if he was doing the same thing on his hotel bed as I was doing right then. 

**_Ben I am so ridiculously attracted to you I can’t stand it_ **

The bedsheets around me rustled as my body squirmed. All I could think about were Ben’s muscular arms around me, caressing me, wrapped around my thighs—

**Can’t stand what, luv?**

I struggled to type: **_I need you._**

**** **Need me? Hmm. Need some…help?**

_God, I can’t think._ I had no idea what he meant, or what he would say next, but I was becoming desperate. **_Yes_**

**What are you doing right now Y/N?**

I was too shy to tell him what it was I was truly doing, but another text appeared: **Are you touching yourself?**

I had no choice but to tell him: **_Yes_**

A few seconds passed before the next text. **I thought you might be.**

**_Are you?_** I asked him.

**Yes, god yes**

_Fuuuuuuck,_ I wondered if he might be. This conversation was quickly becoming very hot. My whole body felt very hot. 

**Y/N. Can I send you something? Something to….help you out**

**_Yes,_** I said.

**I need to make sure,** he said. **I need to make sure that’s okay with you**

**_Yes_** , I repeated. 

**Give me three min. Stop touching yourself, do you think you can do that?**

I wasn’t sure, but I forced my hand away, whining at the loss of friction. **_Yes_**

**Good girl**

My mind whirled with all of the possibilities. I wasn’t sure if I could last for another whole minute without touching myself, much less three. Every part of my body was becoming warm and throbbing with need. I let out a little moan, unable to stop my hips from squirming, desperate for something, _anything,_ to offer means of release. Self-control was not my strong suit, not in moments like this. But while my hands stilled, my mind raced.

Wild fantasies played out in my head at a million miles a minute, and all of them starred Ben. I thought of Ben’s lips, Ben’s hands, Ben’s cock in those sweatpants, Ben Ben _Ben—_

My phone buzzed, _finally_. I opened the new text…it was an audio recording. 

_Holy hell, he sent me an audio message._

I forced myself to sit up and grab my pair of earbuds from the backpack next to my bed. After nestling them in my ears, I opened the audio message and pressed play. 

The sound of rustling was the first thing I heard, before…

“Hey, Y/N, love. It’s me, Ben.”

I gasped out loud at the sound of Ben’s voice. It was gravely and had a strained quality to it…as if he was overcome with desire and couldn’t hide it. It immediately sent a twist of yearning to my core. I hadn’t heard him sound like that before. I’d never heard _any_ guy say my name like that before. 

Ben continues talking in that hushed, husky voice. “I’m, um… I’m here in my hotel room in Belfast. It’s really nice. I’m just here, relaxing on this bed…and I can’t stop looking at this photo you just sent me.”

_Jesus._ I snuck my hand under the hem of my pajamas, back where it had been before, and started moving my fingers in little circles. 

“I just… _God,_ Y/N. You look amazing. So beautiful, so sexy.” There was another sound in the background, something slick and wet. I had the sense that it was the reason why Ben’s breath had a little catch to it. 

“I _love_ seeing you in that lace bra, those pretty little lace knickers. Fuck,” Ben muttered under his breath. A few seconds went by, and when his voice returned, his mouth was suddenly right next to the mic. “All I can think about,” he whispered, “is what it would feel like to kiss the nape of your neck, those collarbones, the perfect slope of your breasts.”

“Ben,” I breathed. I didn’t intend to moan his name like that. It just came out. I prayed Paige couldn’t hear me from her room.

“Wanna pull aside that sexy little bra, kiss everything underneath. Wanna feel the way your smooth, sexy thighs feel wrapped around my head. God, Y/N, I remember the first time I saw your face at my front door. Bloody hell, I wanted to take your face in my hands and kiss you right there.”

The embers in my core grew into roaring flames of desire. I moaned, a willing victim of my own primal needs, as I bucked my hips up wildly to meet the movement of my hand. 

“I wish I knew what you looked like right now. What you’re thinking about. What you’re doing. Whatever it is, I get the sense that it’s very…naughty.”

_Naughty_. _That word from his mouth…_ I keened, my back arching off the mattress. 

“Are you touching yourself, princess? _Fuck,_ the thought of you in your bed, touching yourself to the sound of my voice… You make me so turned on.”

I could feel all the blood in my body rushing south, where my warmth throbbed under my fingers. My toes curled. I brought a hand up to my breasts under my shirt; my nipples were rock hard, the result of my arousal. I wanted Ben’s lips wrapped around them. I wanted Ben’s lips everywhere. 

“I’m gonna give you a few things to think about, love,” Ben drawled. “Is that alright? I hope it’s alright. I want you to think about…my hands. My hands grazing your body, your gorgeous curves, the smooth skin of your tummy. All of me, focused on all of you.”

The visual image appeared at the forefront of my mind, vivid and addicting.

“Think about my lips grazing yours, or latched onto that sweet spot on your neck. Are you thinking about that, love? Good, good girl.”

_Good girl._ All logical thought scattered, and the fire grew.

“I want you to think about my lips going lower, lower, lower. Kissing that lace fabric of your knickers…pulling them aside with my teeth. Bloody hell, Y/N, I bet you taste so fucking good. I’m thinking about just how good you’d taste. How good you’d feel…so fucking wet and warm around my fingers, around my tongue. Around my cock.”

Ben shuddered in my earbuds, and I shuddered right along with him. I could feel the edge of my desire coming closer and closer. My hands moved on their own accord.

“Fuuuck,” he moaned softly. 

I wanted to know how he was touching himself. I wanted to know how close he was. Because by the sound of his voice, he wasn’t very far. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna have to let you go soon, baby. You’ve got me so worked up. I can only imagine how worked up you must be, love. Fuck. Keep thinking of me, okay? Think of me.”

I thought for a split second that he was going to end the recording when all of a sudden, his voice came right up to the microphone and he whispered in the dirtiest tone of voice:

“Are you getting close, love? I think you might be pretty close. I want you to move faster, faster, _faster._ I want you to let go. Let go, Y/N. Let go for me.”

That did it. I moaned into my pillow as my body writhed, and Ben’s face was the only thing on my mind. My toes clenched and my entire core contracted. 

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N,” Ben purred. I shivered, the aftershocks rushing through my body, amplified by the low rumble of Ben’s voice in my earbuds. “You’re so beautiful. So lovely. So _mine_. Yes… Relax now. Close your eyes.”

I did, letting my eyes drift close as my breathing steadied. The last thing I heard before my consciousness ebbed to sleep was Ben’s warm voice: “That’s my good girl.”

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~


	5. part five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is a dogsitter for an app called Fido, where she meets clients and their dogs to provide drop-in visits and walks. One of her new clients, Ben H. and his pup Frankie, takes a keen interest in her right away. The thing is…Reader has no idea at first who Ben H. really is.
> 
> In this chapter: Reader feels embarrassed after her night with Ben; Frankie needs a bath, and Reader needs a shower; Ben calls Reader to help her feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey everyone! This is Blake from over at @sweet-ladyy on Tumblr. I am cross-posting my 8-part miniseries Good Girl, originally published on Tumblr, onto AO3 and Wattpad! I hope you enjoy Good Girl. ✧・ﾟ:*
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Ben Hardy or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized.

Good Girl — part five

  
[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/b643236bedd2ce9117bf9da0accd2675/1e1b5b8beffe9dcd-7d/s1280x1920/106ce6c79e5b997b04d383417e124419db379db6.jpg)

[ Photo by [Cecilie Harris](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.cecilieharris.co.uk%2Findex.php%2Fgirls%2Fben-hardy%2F&t=ZmY4MjRjZWMzNzBiOGFhNDQwMDNmZjQ4NTY0YzIwOGI2ZjYwNjgzMSx5NG9oNWlYaw%3D%3D&b=t%3A9lHAj1l-jXMRGYg9I1iewg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsweet-ladyy.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F186296513721%2Fgood-girl-part-five&m=1) ]

Special shoutout to my love [@a-night-at-the-0pera](https://tmblr.co/mUAv2uBBOJeWj0F1Et5IRMQ) for beta reading and cheering me on! ✧・ﾟ:* 

I made a Good Girl series [moodboard](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/186294085624/good-girl-ben-hardy-x-dogsitterreader-moodboard)! Go give it a like / reblog ◡̈

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

Wednesday 10 July 

I woke up the next morning, mind muddled with sleep, and spent nearly 10 minutes getting ready for the day before I remembered what happened. I nearly dropped my toothbrush when it hit; Ben Hardy and I literally sexted last night. 

“Oh god.”

I pulled my phone out to check my messages. Apparently, we’d shared a few final messages to each other before I’d drifted off to sleep. I only vaguely remember texting him.

**_Holy shit…that was fucking amazing. Thank you,_** I’d sent.

**Did you enjoy it?** Ben had replied.

I’d said: **_In every sense of the word, YES_**

**Fuuuck, I thought you might have…you feelin good, luv?**

I must have dozed off soon after, because I never replied. Five minutes later, Ben messaged again:

**Goodnight, angel. I’d love to hear from you tomorrow :)**

I scrolled up our conversation, and reminded myself about the audio file he’d sent… My cheeks immediately went hot. Scrolling up even more, there was the selfie Ben had sent, in all of his chiseled godlike perfection…and there was mine. I felt like I was going to pass out. I clicked my phone off, threw it on my mattress, and ran my hands through my hair. _Fuck. Holy fuck. That actually happened._

I should have felt giddy with excitement at what happened last night. Not mortified. It was _so stupid_ that I was feeling this way. But the harsh reality that was brought along with the morning sunshine seemed to wash away the haze of this fantasy I’d built up in my brain.

_I’m such a fool._

I couldn’t believe I sent him a nude photo. Even though I wasn’t entirely nude, it felt like I might as well have been. I groaned and covered my face with my hands, feeling suddenly like I was about to cry. Despite all his complimenting and lauding, I felt humiliated with myself. 

I was way over my head and way out of my league to think that I had a shot with Ben. I felt like a stupid, naive girl…playing make-believe that I was some sexy, confident vixen. I was just fooling myself. I was fooling Ben, too. For fuck’s sake, we only met in person literally _once._ He barely knew me. And now he had a photo of me wearing lingerie on his phone.

I hated that photo. I absolutely despised that photo. I could barely look in a mirror without cringing, and now, to think I’d sent a real nude photo to a guy I’d just met last week…to think he stared at this photo and all my godforsaken imperfections, all my straight lines and curves in all the wrong places… I felt sick. 

I _knew_ I shouldn’t, based on how Ben had spent all night telling me how much he loved it. But that was the problem. I hated the idea that I’d laid my skin and my soul bare to him with that photo. I hated the idea that I’d disappointed him. I hated the idea that I had given him—given _anyone,_ regardless of who it was—this piece of myself to use or abuse however they wanted, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it now, because I’d already sent it.

_Calm down. Your face isn’t showing, Y/N._ And Ben had promised he wasn’t going to do anything with the photo.

But who was I to testify for Ben’s integrity? Who was I to say Ben was different from any other man…different from Mark?

Mark had promised me a lot of things in the two years we were together. He’d promised me that I was the love of his life. He’d promised me that he’d never leave me. He’d promised me that there would never be anyone else. Hell, he’d even promised me marriage, a wedding ring, a happy life with a big farmhouse and three dogs out in the countryside. For two years, he’d looked me in the eyes and made all these promises I should have known from the very start that he’d never be able to keep. And then he broke them all. 

I’d made myself vulnerable to Mark. And I suffered the consequences. Now, I’ve done the exact same thing with Ben. Was I just going to suffer the same fate? Was I about to get burned twice by the same flame?

I had to believe I wasn’t. I just had to. Ben’s words…they _had_ to mean something. Sunday afternoon, the first time we’d talked on the phone, he’d practically bared his own soul to me. He was kind, he was passionate, he was understanding…and he seemed just as vulnerable as I was. He’d gotten his heart broken, too. I had to believe that someone who’s been heartbroken before would try everything in their power not to cast the same fate onto someone else.

I took a deep breath, then another, and another. I straightened my back and resolved to try my very hardest to stay cool…even though I felt horrifically, cripplingly humiliated. But then my phone buzzed; a new text from Ben.

**Good morning gorgeous 😍**

I couldn’t bring myself to reply.

———

Eventually, I conjured up the courage to reply to Ben’s texts, but I couldn’t bring myself to text with quite as much energy as I’d had before. Luckily, Ben told me he would be busy pretty much all day with various conferences and interviews and movie star things. I knew he was wondering about last night—and about how I’d enjoyed the audio he’d sent—but I was grateful for the time. I needed to think. 

Or maybe I didn’t need to think… Maybe I was thinking too much.

But I couldn’t help it. The more I thought about my insecurities surrounding the photo I’d sent to Ben, the more I felt simultaneously stupid and anxious. It wasn’t the lack of trust I had for Ben, I realized; it was the vulnerability of trusting him in the first place, of trusting _anyone_ again. As much as I wanted to forget about Mark—and I really, really wanted to forget about Mark—I still felt hurt and heartbroken by what he’d done. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it if someone else broke my trust again, especially not someone of Ben’s caliber.

It would have been a normal, busy day full of drool and scratches and throwing tennis balls, except it started pouring rain around noon and I had to cancel a number of my walks. The rain stopped just before my afternoon visit at 5 pm with Frankie. I was glad to come to Ben’s again; compared to the yappy pair of chihuahuas I had to see every day, Frankie was a dream dog. She was becoming very used to me, and yet, each time I unlocked the door and turned the knob, Frankie greeted me with a frenzy of kisses and yelps. It was as if she was saying, “I thought I’d never see you again!!!”

Frankie and I went outside to sniff around and go potty, but Frankie took it upon herself to find the biggest puddle of mud she could and begin digging into it. I groaned and tried to tug her away, but she paid no heed to my chastising. Instead, she flopped right into the puddle and covered her tan-and-white fur with sticky mud.

“Frankie!!!” I hoisted her up from the ground, covering my own arms in mud in the process. She writhed in my arms, trying to wiggle herself free so she could roll in the mud again. “Oh, no you don’t. _Bad girl.”_ I carried her inside, and _boy_ , trying to keep her wiggling body from slipping out of my arms while simultaneously trying to evade her slobbery tongue in my mouth was a feat in and of itself. By the time we made it upstairs and back to Ben’s condo, we were both muddy disasters.

“Christ, pup, you’re a mess.” I kicked my dirty shoes off by the front door. Frankie squirmed and whined, clearly with the intent to run all over the flat and trail her muddy paw prints all over Ben’s rugs and carpets. I wasn’t about to let that happen, so I took her into the bathroom and set her down in the tub, crouching on the floor beside it. 

I figured the best thing to do would be to call Ben before I decided to clean off Frankie. Holding her back by her pink collar, I pressed my phone to my ear and called Ben’s cell. Even though the call was business-related, I still felt nervous. This would be the first time I hear his voice since last night…since the audio recording. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Ben answered, his voice warm and smooth. My stomach twisted, and I couldn’t tell if it was a nervous twist or a good twist. “I’m actually just about to get in a cab. I’m going to a press interview. Is everything alright?”

“Hi, Ben. Everything’s fine… It’s just, I wanted to let you know that Frankie here has decided to take a mud bath.” Frankie’s ears perked up at the sound of her name, and I smiled. “She’s a mess. We’re both messes. Is it alright if I bathe her?”

“Oh, Frankie,” Ben groaned. “That’s fine. Please, do. I’ll pay you extra for taking the time to do that. Thanks, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to pay me extra, it’s no problem. Does she have puppy shampoo?”

“Under the sink in the bathroom. Is it raining there, too? It’s coming down pretty hard here in Belfast.”

“It was,” I said. “It stopped raining just a few minutes ago. I’m guessing Frankie has a history with liking the mud?”

“She’s a _fiend_ for mud. It’s like, she _knows_ she’s not supposed to get dirty, but she does it anyway.” Ben laughs. “Gotta love her. Thanks again, for giving her a bath. She’ll squirm at first, but she loves the water.” 

“Okay, good to know.”

“So… How are you, Y/N?”

He said it casually, but I knew the meaning behind his words. _How was last night?_

“I’m doing good. I…um…” I trailed off awkwardly. I had to say _something_ to him. I couldn’t just pretend like nothing happened. But then Frankie yawned, making this adorable high-pitched whine in the process, and I glanced at her. “I should, uh… I should probably get started with Frankie’s bath. I wanna get all the dirt off her fur before she jumps out of the tub and tries to ruin your flat.”

“Of course. Oh, and I forgot to say…if she got you muddy, too, you can take a shower there, if you’d like.”

My cheeks flushed with heat, inexplicably. “T-thanks,” I stammered. _A shower at Ben’s?_

“No prob. Clean towels are in the closet in the hallway.”

I ended the call and sighed. Why was I feeling weird about Ben offering to let me shower at his place? I looked at the mud stains on my legs and arms. Lord knows I needed a shower. I decided to take him up on his offer, as soon as I get Frankie cleaned up. I dug around under the sink for Frankie’s shampoo bottle. Frankie’s happy panting halted as I pulled out the bottle and a little plastic cup and set them on the bathtub ledge beside her. It was as if she knew what was coming. 

Sure enough, her eyes almost seemed to grow wide as I turned the faucet on. It was as if she was pleading with me not to get bathed. 

“It’s for your own good, Frankie.”

She tilted her head. _How is this good?_

“See, if you hadn’t been such a bad girl, this would never have needed to happen.” 

She whined—the saddest whine ever, like a pitiful little plea. _Please, no!_

“Don’t talk back to me. You did this to yourself.”

I started bathing her. Sure enough, just like Ben said, she _hated_ it at first, but began relaxing after not too long. I got her fur nice and wet before adding the shampoo, and then I rinsed her off until the water ran clear instead of mud brown. I ended up even muddier myself by the end of it; every time I poured a cup full of tap water to rinse Frankie off, she shook her whole body and covered me with suds and dirty water. 

Finally, she was clean. But I realized too late that I’d forgotten to grab the towel from the closet in the hallway.

“Sit, Frankie.” She sat back on her haunches and stared at me. “Stay.” I stood up and backed out of the bathroom, inch by inch. She stared at me, and I stared at her, silently pleading for her to _stay_. But the second I walked through the doorway and lost eye contact with her, she leaped out of the tub and bolted down the hallway.

“FRANKIE!!!”

It was a wild goose chase trying to grab this sopping wet tornado of a dog. I chased her around the couch and into the kitchen, and while I was letting out a stream of curses, Frankie looked as if she was having the best time ever. I backed her into the corner of cabinets, but she darted just out of my grasp just in time. But her paws slipped on the puddle of water dripping from her fur, and I used the falter to snatch her up into my arms.

“Gotcha!” 

Frankie finally slumped in defeat as soon as I got the towel wrapped around her. But she’d still won, for now I was muddy and wet _and_ sweaty from the effort it had taken to corral her. 

As soon as she was dry, I set her down and let her run around. But the fun and games were over for her. She curled up in a little ball on the couch and closed her eyes. I _tsked_ and shook my head at her. _Just when she was becoming my favorite dog to sit…_ But I couldn’t stay mad at her. She was too damn cute.

“You hungry, girl?”

I poured Frankie’s food, and she jumped up excitedly and went to the kitchen to eat it. I decided it would be improper to use Ben’s shower, even though he’d offered. It would be out of place. Besides, I only had one pair of clothes, which were sopping wet and covered in mud. I didn’t want to take a shower, only to have to wear my dirty clothes again—and I wasn’t about to ask Ben to borrow his clothes. But just as I decided not to use the shower, Ben texted me.

**How was her bath?**

**_Had to wrestle her down a few times, but we managed!_** I typed. **_She’s all dry now. Eating dinner._**

Ben replied with a thumbs-up, then said, **Did you shower?**

**_No, I’ll just shower at home. Thank you anyway :)_**

**You sure? Thought it might…interest you.**

Something that might interest me…the same words he’d said to get me to look through his dresser drawers. Oh, _now_ I was intrigued. I went back to the bathroom, wondering what on earth he could be talking about. I hadn’t noticed anything strange about the shower when I first saw it.

But when I pulled back the shower curtain again, I saw it. The thing that “might interest me.” I must have been too distracted by Frankie to notice it the first time. But now, looking up at the showerhead, there was no way I could ignore it now…and my core clenched at the sight.

Ben had a retractable showerhead.

Well. I wished I had noticed it earlier. _That_ would have been helpful in bathing Frankie.

But Ben clearly thought it would have interested me for another reason.

“No.” I shoved the shower curtains back in place and closed the bathroom door, shaking my head. That would be _too_ weird…getting myself off in Ben’s shower…? No. I couldn’t. I _shouldn’t._

But _Christ,_ he wanted me to. And _for fuck’s sake_ , we’d _sexted_ last night. And _god,_ I’d always wanted to try out a retractable shower head. I’d always heard of it, but I could never justify the investment for myself. 

And Ben had one, here, in his shower, that he was offering me to use.

But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was already feeling weird about last night, about being so personal with a client, with _Ben Hardy._ As much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t let myself shower in his condo.

I checked my phone; my thirty minutes were up. I needed to go. As soon as Frankie finished her meal, I gave her a dental stick, scratched her head goodbye, and left Ben’s condo. 

———

I didn’t text Ben back until I’d gone home for the evening. As I walked up the stairs of my dingy apartment building, I messaged him: **_Call me when you get a chance?_**

“What’s up, Buttercup,” Paige greeted me as I walked in. She was perched on the couch, wearing lots of makeup and not a lot of clothes, watching what looked like a low-budget horror film. She gave me a funny look. “You look homeless. What’s with all the mud? Did you break up a dog fight?”

“No. It’s been a crazy afternoon,” I huffed, setting my bags down on the kitchen counter and kicking my shoes off. “You going somewhere?”

Paige smirked. “I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Mmm, on a Wednesday night? With who?” 

She just waggled her eyebrows. I knew what _that_ meant.

“Scott? I thought you said he got herpes?”

“Just an ingrown hair!” she chirped. “Anyway, we might come back here later…if that’s okay.”

I just shrugged as I pulled a leftover to-go box out of the fridge. “Fine by me, as long as he doesn’t give you any questionable illnesses…”

“I made him go get tested,” Paige laughed. “And before you ask _again_ whether this is serious or not, I’ll remind you, we’re _just friends_.”

“Friends who shag each other’s brain’s out,” I muttered with a suppressed grin. 

“Shut up!” Paige giggled. “What about you? When will you be bringing home Ben-I’m-Hardy?”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname. “I told you, he’s out of town till Friday. That’s why he needed me to take care of his dog.”

She winked. “Mm hmm. So you guys have just been texting?”

“Yep.”

“ _Just_ texting?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “We’ve called a few times…”

“Ooh, talking on the _phone._ And what have you talked about?”

“Just…dog stuff.”

Paige hummed, looking unconvinced. “Uh huh. Right. Just dog stuff?”

“Yep.”

Paige nodded. “I see. So how big is his dick, then?”

“ _Paige!”_ I spun around and threw my hand to my forehead, groaning. She just cackled. 

“What? You haven’t traded pics yet?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Okay, okay. I’d just be glad to hear that I didn’t totally ruin your chances with him last Saturday!”

I shook my head. “If things are ruined, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

She must have heard the serious note in my voice, because her own voice changed. “Oh, no. What happened?”

I turned to face her; she looked genuinely concerned. “I…” 

Should I tell Paige what’s been worrying me? Maybe she could help me figure out why the idea of sharing nudes with Ben had me freaking out, or why I was so worried he would end up being like Mark. I opened my mouth to say something, but my phone started ringing in my bag. 

Paige watched me as I withdrew it. _Call from: Ben Hardy._ “It’s him,” I said. 

“Do you want me to…?” Paige motioned a thumb in the direction of her room. 

“No, that’s okay, I’ll go in mine.” 

I closed the door behind me and flopped on my bed before answering. “Hey, Ben.”

“Hey again,” Ben replied. The memory of his voice in my earbuds last night flashes in my mind, and I feel my body grow warmer.

“Hi,” I said again. My mouth felt dry. “Thanks for calling.”

“Of course, love. I’m—” he chuckled for a second, “—I’m actually just about to head out.”

I heard the distant sounds of chattering and laughter in the background. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m at the hotel bar. One of the producers wanted to throw a party. Pre-production is over, and they just announced that we start filming next month.”

“That’s great,” I said, smiling.

“Yeah! I’m excited. I’ve been prepping for this role for a long time. Sorry I’ve been too busy to chat today, it’s been fucking mad over here. Anyway…” His tone changed; it got quieter, more seductive. “How are you, Y/N, love?”

I knew he must have been wondering why I’d been more or less avoiding talking to him today. I knew he must be dying with curiosity about what happened last night.

“I’m fine,” I said, tapping my fingers anxiously against my pillow. “Just got back to my flat.”

“Is there any certain reason you’d wanted me to call?”

_God._ I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know… It was probably a bad idea. You’re super busy right now. I’m sorry, Ben—”

“I’m not busy at all,” he countered. “Well, I mean, I am. But I have time for you. What is it?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn’t really even know what to say. A few seconds passed. Ben finally said, “Tell you what. I’m gonna leave now, go back upstairs to my hotel room. Then we can talk, just you and me. What do you think?”

“Okay,” I whispered. Ben must have sensed that I was uncomfortable, or that the conversation was serious.

“Okay, I’m walking into the elevator now.” He paused. “Tell me about Frankie. Did she behave for you?”

“For the most part,” I laughed. “She started running like crazy around the flat as soon as she finished her bath, but I managed to dry her off.”

“She loves her zoomies.”

I thought again about the mud that was still caked on my clothes and skin, the mud that I could have washed off at Ben’s. In his shower. Ben noticed I went quiet. 

“You there, sweetheart?”

“Ben, I…” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I feel bad.”

“About what?”

“That I’ve been acting so weird.”

“What do you mean, you’ve been acting weird?”

“I just…feel strange.”

There’s a click on the other line, a door swinging open, then shutting closed. “Is it about last night?”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

Ben hesitated, and even though we were chatting through the phone, I felt like I could feel the shift in the vibes he was giving off.

“Was the audio recording…too much?” he asked. 

“No, no no no,” I said quickly. “That was… It was perfect. Seriously. That was…” I smiled a little to myself and decided to be frank with him. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. The hottest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Ben chuckled a little shyly. “Really?”

“Really.” I knew what he was wondering, what he wanted to ask but couldn’t. _Did I get myself off to his voice?_

“Fuck, Y/N.” Ben lowers his voice. “That’s how I feel about what you sent me. That photo…”

My stomach dropped.

“Y/N?”

“God, I’m sorry,” I said, covering my eyes, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” he repeated, as if he was in utter disbelief. “Love. Why are you embarrassed?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered. I could feel my body growing uncomfortably flushed with heat.

“You don’t need to be. Christ, you look amazing, Y/N. If you’re worried that I didn’t like them, you shouldn’t be.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…” I sighed. “I think it’s just everything. I’ve never sent a photo like that to anyone before. Not even Mark.”

“Who’s Mark?”

“My ex,” I explained. I guess I hadn’t told Ben about Mark yet. “We broke up a few weeks ago.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay.”

“I can delete the photo. Say the word, and it’s gone. I swear.”

“I don’t want you to delete it,” I said quietly. 

“What do you want, Y/N?” Ben said quietly. “Please, tell me what you want.”

I released my held breath in one long, heavy stream. Ben waited for me to say something, but I didn’t know how to formulate my words. 

“Fuck.” He took a deep breath. “I know this is difficult to grasp, Y/N, but I like you. A lot.”

“Even still?”

“What do you mean? Of course—”

I cut him off. “Even after I sent the photo?”

Ben paused, and I chewed on my cheek, my heart pounding. “Are you worried…that I’ll like you _less…_ now that I’ve seen a photo of you…wearing _lingerie_?”

I felt hot tears prickle at the back of my eyes. I felt stupid, _so_ stupid. “I’m sorry. I should have never said—”

“I can’t even begin to tell you have wrong you are. I don’t even know what to say.” There’s a rustling noise; he must have settled back onto his hotel bed. “Why would you be worried about that, Y/N?”

I sighed. “I guess… I guess I’m just feeling kind of weird that I sent it at all. I just… I feel like I’m being fake. I feel like I’m trying to be somebody that I’m not.”

“In the photo, you mean?”

“Yes,” I said, growing fervent. “Ben, you have to understand. I’m not a Victoria’s Secret model, I’m not a movie star, my body’s not—”

“A movie star?” Ben interrupted me. “We’re not back on this, are we?”

“Ben,” I said pitifully. 

“I don’t want you to be a movie star.” He spoke with earnesty and frustration. “I don’t want you to be a Victoria’s Secret model. I want you to be _you._ You don’t have to be anybody but yourself around me.”

I bit my lip, feeling the butterflies returning at his words. “Really?”

“Really. And you, Y/N…you’re bloody perfect.”

“You’re not…disappointed?”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, but he was laughing. “No! Bloody hell, you don’t even know how beautiful you are, do you? You have no fucking idea. And that’s what I like about you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I hate that I’ve been so weird about it—”

“You gotta stop apologizing, Y/N,” Ben said. “It’s okay. Seriously.”

“Yeah, but it’s silly,” I said. “I think… I think I just woke up this morning and realized you have that picture saved on your phone now, and I kind of freaked out. It’s just…it’s just really intimate.”

“It is, and that’s why I like it,” Ben said with a smirk to his voice. “But…yeah, I get it. And it’s not silly that you feel that way.”

I paused for a moment. Just before he could say anything else, I blurted, “I broke up with my last boyfriend because he cheated on me.”

“Oh.” It got quiet before he added, “I’m so sorry.”

“He’d been cheating on me for a solid year before I found out. And I only found out because I walked in on them.” I started chuckling. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m laughing. I guess I’m just remembering his face when I caught him. It was ridiculous. He was an idiot.”

Ben laughed a little along with me. “I take it you’re over the breakup?”

“Not really. I mean, yeah, I’m over _Mark._ He was such a prick. But I’m not really over the breakup. Not at all, really.”

“I know how you feel.” Ben rustled again, presumably readjusting himself on the bed. “It was the same way with me, for a while. About Kat.”

“Is that your ex?”

“Yeah. It was…it was really hard.”

“I’m sorry, Ben.”

“Me too. But it’s okay now.”

There were a few moments of silence, before I sat upright. “Let’s stop talking about our old flames, shall we?”

Ben made a sound of agreement. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” I said. “I don’t really know why I did… I guess I just felt like I needed to tell you.”

“I get it,” Ben murmured. “I understand how you feel about the photo, Y/N. Like… I get why it’s a big deal for you. You never have to send anything else, if you don’t want—”

“I want to,” I blurted. 

“You do?” 

I thought about it for a second. “Yes. I just need a little…encouragement at times.”

“That,” Ben said, “I can provide. I gotta tell you, I love everything about that photo, but I hate how much it makes me wish I was there with you right now.” 

I felt the butterflies fluttering in overdrive, and I hugged a pillow to my chest to still them. “Me too. I wish I could hug you. So bad.”

“Sounds like you need a hug.”

“Please.”

“I’m on my way to the airport.”

I giggled. “Thank you, Ben,” I said seriously. “For everything.” 

“Of course,” he said warmly. “Do you feel better about the whole thing?”

“I do.” He truly made me feel so much better—mostly by illuminating the flaws in my mindset about the whole thing, but also by doing so with such support.

I glanced at my gross dirty clothes again. “I’ll feel even better after a shower, though. I’m still covered in mud from today.”

“So you never took me up on my shower offer then, hm?”

I held my breath, hesitating, weighing how to respond to him. I could blow him off, keep things casual… Or, I could take this conversation in a whole new direction.

“No…” I said slowly, drawing out the word, “…but now I really wish I had.”

Ben chuckled a little. “Do you, now?”

“Yes.” I lowered my voice. “I’ve never… I’ve never tried it that way before.” I hoped he knew what I was talking about.

“Mmm, well, you’ll have to try it in the morning when you go back.”

My stomach dropped. “Really?”

“Yes, and if it’s alright,” Ben murmured, shifting his body again, and then whispered, “I’d love to hear all about what it was like for you.”

I felt a chill run down my spine and raise goosebumps on my arms. “I never got a chance to tell you how I felt about that audio you sent me last night.”

“I’d love to hear about that, too.” I could hear the novel excitement in Ben’s voice.

“Mmm,” I hummed, “but I gotta take a shower and get ready for bed first.”

“Well,” Ben said, “you’d better hurry up, love.” I felt all kinds of warm at the way he spoke those words so slowly and deliberately. “Go put on some cozy nightclothes. And don’t take too long… I want you to call me back when you’re done. Do you think you can do that?”

I couldn’t believe the way his voice grew more and more provocative with each word he spoke. “Yes,” I said meekly.

“Good girl.”

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~


	6. part six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is a dogsitter for an app called Fido, where she meets clients and their dogs to provide drop-in visits and walks. One of her new clients, Ben H. and his pup Frankie, takes a keen interest in her right away. The thing is…Reader has no idea at first who Ben H. really is.
> 
> In this chapter: Ben wants Reader to tell her about how she got off from his voice the night before; Reader's never had phone sex before, but there's a first time for everything; Reader learns that Ben does not like to be submissive, and would much prefer to be the one in charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey everyone! This is Blake from over at @sweet-ladyy on Tumblr. I am cross-posting my 8-part miniseries Good Girl, originally published on Tumblr, onto AO3 and Wattpad! I hope you enjoy Good Girl.
> 
> ✧・ﾟ:*
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Ben Hardy or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized.

[ Originally posted on Tumblr at [https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/186060052724/good-girl-part-one) ]

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/210c71eac1eb7f7a70880a8a2a6c5b50/fc8a1a6a490b879a-3a/s640x960/bc64f93b761872fa96030856e803d73db583b2d6.gif)

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

I’d never gotten ready for bed so quickly in my life.

I scarfed down leftovers for dinner and tried not to freak out about what was going to happen. After showering all the mud and sweat of the day from my skin, I wrapped a towel around my torso and brushed through my hair. Right as I was brushing my teeth, I heard Paige announce, “Bye, I’m going out with Scott!” as she went out the front door.

I was home alone.

I sorted through my closet for something cozy to wear, as Ben instructed. _Cozy, cozy…what constitutes cozy?_ Did he mean “cozy” as in something soft? Or does he mean “cozy” as in sexy? 

_Gah, forget it._ He wasn’t even here to see what I was wearing. I chose the same white tee and pair of cotton pajama shorts as I’d worn last night, but I changed into favorite white Calvin Kleins.

I closed my bedroom door, set up some slower music on my bluetooth speakers, sat down on my bed, and checked my phone. It was just past nine. Ben had texted me: **You done getting ready? 😉**

It was time. I pressed “call.” The phone buzzed three times, and then he answered.

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me,” Ben drawled.

I felt myself relax as I leaned back onto the pillows. “What, were you worried?”

“No, but I would have called room service if I’d have known you would take that long.”

I scoffed in mock offense. “I was making dinner. A girl’s gotta eat.”

“Four-course meal?”

“Leftover pizza.”

“Sounds gourmet.”

“It really wasn’t,” I laughed.

Ben seemed to lean back too and grunted a relaxed sigh. “One day, I’ll make you a four-course meal.”

“You can cook?”

“I can…try.”

I snorted. “You don’t have to make me dinner to woo me, Ben.”

“What if I want to woo you?”

“You already have.”

Ben made a little noise, like he was smiling. I wished I could see his face. “You…Y/N…are one of a kind.”

I smiled too. “I gotta say, I never imagined I’d be the girl to lure Ben Hardy away from a hotel bar party back up to his hotel room. Even if it’s only over a phone call.”

“You gotta stop saying my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s some kind of rite. _Ben Hardy.”_

I pursed my lips. It was difficult to properly relay to Ben just how shocked I felt every time I remembered he was a celebrity. To deflect, I said in a playful voice, “You don’t like it when I say your name?”

“No, I like it a lot,” he said suggestively.

“ _Ben Hardy.”_

Ben giggled. “No.”

“Hmmm. _Ben Jones?”_

He barked a laugh. “No! Just _Ben’_ s alright.”

“Why the name change?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Because _Ben Jones_ already exists in the world. Probably a few thousand of them.”

“Yeah, but why _Hardy?”_

Ben made a noise. “Well… Do you really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

“A long time ago, back when I was trying to make a name for myself in the theater world… I had an agent tell me it would be a good move to change my stage name to something less common.”

“Okayyy,” I prompted. 

“And I had no idea what it should be. Like, no idea. I wasn’t very creative. So I asked my mates for help. I should have known that was a bad idea, because they had this running joke about me that I…” Ben paused. “This is embarrassing.”

“Ohhhh, no,” I teased him. “You gotta tell me now. You gotta finish what you’ve started.”

“Okay, fine.” He took a deep breath. “I was a teenager. I was playing the lead role in this play, and I think it was the premiere night, and I was with some girlfriend at the time backstage…you know.”

“Oh,” I giggled, catching his drift. 

“But I lost track of time, and suddenly it was call time, and no one could find me. When I realized I was late, I came running out, trying to make myself presentable. We hadn’t, y’know…finished.”

I was having trouble keeping my snickering down. 

“So I ran out onstage in front of a full house, and the show began, and I realized too late that I hadn’t given myself time to… I’m just gonna stop there.”

I was full-on laughing now. I couldn’t help it.

“They never let me live that down. They called me ‘Ben Hard-On Jones.’ And then it became Ben Hardy. And it just stuck.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“So now you know,” Ben said in defeat, but he was laughing, too. “Are you glad you asked?”

“So glad,” I said between giggles. “It must have really been quite the show.”

“I got a standing ovation and everything.”

I toyed with the embroidery on my bedspread as I said, “Well, I think I’ve got a plethora of viable names to call you, Ben Hard-On Jones.”

“The nickname wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate right now.”

_Oop._ The vibe between us completely changed, a complete shift in the direction of the conversation. I loved it. My cheeks went hot; I’d never done this before. “For real?”

“Yes, for real. I…am so turned on right now. I blame you.”

I took a deep breath. I felt shaky, but in a good way. “I was wondering about that.” I squeezed my thighs together a little. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t turned on, too.”

“Mmm.”

There was a lot of dead air between our words, but it felt good to have that much time. It gave the situation a whole new level of weight. The anticipation was captivating.

I shifted a little, nestling my toes under the bedsheets. My limbs felt heavy. “That’s just what your voice does to me, baby. That audio you sent…”

“Y/N,” Ben whispered. “Tell me.”

“Ben. I should say… I’ve never done this before. I’m not sure I’m going to do it right.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “There’s no ‘wrong’ way to do it. Just… Just sit back and get comfortable, alright, love? Just say what you’d say if I was there with you.”

I tried to relax. I wasn’t sure I’d be any less tense if he was here in person, seeing as I’d only ever met him in person _once,_ for god’s sakes.

“What if I don’t say the right things?”

“You will. You could probably say anything, though, and you’d still turn me on.”

_Fuck._

“I’ll help you out,” Ben continued. “How about…I guide you through this. You follow my lead. Does that sound good, love?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to soothe my jitters. 

“Okay. I want you to tell me what my voice does to you. I want to hear you describe it.”

I thought about it, scanning my body. “I’m so…warm. My cheeks feel hot, my legs feel hot… My whole body feels hot. But it’s a good feeling.”

“Fuck,” I heard him mutter.

I slid further down into my bed, my head resting flat against the pillow now. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I need your hands. I need…friction.” My left hand held the phone to my ear as my right hand began inching down to the hem of my shirt. “Ben. That audio you sent me last night…it drove me wild.”

“Y/N,” Ben said. “I’ve been wanting to ask you all day.” His voice was so sultry it sounded like silk. “Tell me… Did you touch yourself to the sound of my voice?”

The question I’d been dreading all day, but now, hearing it from his voice made me squirm with delight. “Yes,” I said. “I did.”

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes. So fucking good.”

“That’s what I thought.” Ben paused, and I listened with bated breath for him to continue. I wanted to know so badly what he was doing right now. “I’d love to recreate that for you, princess. In live time. Right here, right now. I’d love to get you off with my voice.”

_Fuck._ It took all my willpower not to start fucking myself right then.

“Do you want that, love? Do you want me to help you out?”

“Yes,” I breathed. “Only…”

“Only what?”

“I want to make sure you get off, too,” I whispered. 

Ben chuckled softly, and the sound was almost devillish. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, love. You don’t need to worry about that at all.”

I smirked to myself and brought my hand under my shirt, letting my fingers just barely brush the warm skin of my tummy. 

“I’d love to know what you’re wearing first,” Ben drawled. “Do you think you could tell me?”

“Tell? Or show?”

“Show. Ideally. Only if you want,” he said reassuringly.

“I definitely want,” I told him. “One sec. But you gotta take one for me, too.”

“Oh, I will.”

I hopped out of bed and went to my dresser mirror. I mussed up my hair a little and hiked my pajama shorts up to my waist to show off my thighs. Ben waited patiently on the line while I took a photo. I didn’t care this time that my face was showing, since I was wearing clothes. But I wanted to make sure to make it clear that under my white tee shirt, there was nothing but bare skin. It felt like I was growing less and less shy by the minute.

“Mmkay, I’m done.”

“Me too,” he said.

“You first.”

“No, you first.”

I flopped back into bed, feeling confident. “Mmm, maybe I just won’t send it, then.”

“Wait,” Ben said, and I sneered at the desperation in his tone. “I’ll send mine.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I waited for the photo to come through in our text conversation, and when it did, I nearly gasped. Ben was standing in front of the same mirror as last night, except this time, he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. They were white—and the clear outline of bulge left little to the imagination—with the words Calvin Klein on the elastic hem.

I started giggling.

“What? What’s so funny?” Ben demanded.

“We had that whole conversation yesterday, about whether you wear boxers or briefs,” I said. “And you’re wearing _boxer briefs_.”

“Y/N,” he said impatiently, but I could tell he was grinning. 

“Also, I’m laughing because we match,” I said simply. I studied his face in the photo; he was smirking in the reflection at his phone camera. I loved that smirk.

“You can’t just say that and not show me your picture,” Ben groaned. I tittered and decided to tease him a little more.

“Hmm. Looking a little tight there, aren’t you, Benny?” I drawled. There was a sound that seemed like it came from the back of Ben’s throat. “That can’t be very comfortable.”

“It’s not.”

“Mmm, whatever will you do?”

“Y/N,” he nearly growled. “Send me yours.”

“I want you to do something first,” I grinned. I liked this sudden switch. I liked being confident enough to control the conversation. But I had a feeling from the frustrated edge in Ben’s voice that the power balance wouldn’t stay in my favor for long. 

“What?”

“I want you…to put a hand over yourself in your underwear,” I said, making my voice lush and prolonged. “Imagine it’s my hand, touching you. Squeezing you. Are you doing that for me?”

“…Yeah,” Ben said, almost reluctantly.

“I’m so curious,” I hummed, “what you feel like through those boxer briefs. What you look like. What you _taste_ like. God, I’m dying to know.” I paused for a bit of dramatic effect, letting him sit on my words. “Tell me, Ben…have you ever wondered what it would feel like…to have my lips wrapped around you? Completely engulfing your cock in my mouth, in my throat?”

Ben whined lowly. I smirked.

“Answer the question, Benny.”

“Fucking Christ,” he cursed. “Yes.”

I hummed again, my mind set on the image of Ben stroking himself through those white Calvin Kleins. It made me feel so hot.

“And are you thinking about me?”

“Yes, always, yes.”

“Are you hard?”

_“Yes,”_ he rasped. “But I’ll be harder when you send me that picture.”

“You really want that picture, don’t you?” I taunted.

“Y/N.”

“What?” I asked.

“Send me the picture.”

“That’s not a very nice way to say it,” I cooed. I wanted to hear him say it nicely. 

“… _Please.”_

“There it is.” I finally complied, sending him the photo. I knew the exact moment he received it, because he let out a long groan.

“Christ, Y/N. You are so fucking sexy.” He really growled the words this time, and chills of pleasure shot down my spine. “Look at those shorts,” he said in awe, and I sighed, nestling deeper into my bedsheets. “Although you’ve got me wondering what’s underneath. What you meant when you said we were matching.”

“Wanna see?” I whispered. 

“You know the answer to that.”

I grinned and shimmied my pajama shorts off, then I snapped a photo of my sprawled-out legs from the midriff down. Like Ben’s, my Calvin Kleins were white with a black printed waistband. At the act of removing my shorts, leaving only thin white underwear, I felt suddenly warm and wet against the cool air of the apartment.

“Holy shit,” Ben muttered when he got the picture.

“See? We do match.”

“I see that. Fuck, you look perfect. Look at you. Such a sexy little thing, Y/N. You are making me so hard, it’s unbearable.”

Ben’s words were making me warmer and warmer. I had to keep reminding myself that he was saying these words aloud _to me_ , that somewhere in Belfast he was sitting on a hotel bed and talking to _me,_ that it wasn’t just some audio recording. It was Ben talking to _me._

“What do you like, Y/N? Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want to do.”

“I want…” I whispered. I was suddenly nervous again, not a bad nervous, just worried that I would run out of things to say. “I want to touch myself.” 

“Do you, now? Y/N, you naughty girl.” He steadied himself with a deep breath. “You’ve had your fun, being in charge. Now it’s my turn.”

I shivered.

“I want you to listen to everything I say,” Ben murmured in that silky tone, and it was the spark that lit the fuse. “I’m gonna tell you exactly what to do, and you’re going to do exactly what I say. Sound good, princess?”

“Okay,” I breathed. His pet names were gonna be the death of me. 

“I don’t want you to cheat. No touching yourself anywhere unless I say so. No cheating. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” _Fuuuuuck._ “You’re not wearing anything under your shirt, are you, love?”

“No.”

“Good, that’s good. I didn’t think you were. I swear, I can see the outline of your nipples under that thin white shirt. I just want to _squeeze_ them through your shirt. Can you do that for me, love? Go ahead, squeeze yourself, those perfect round tits.”

I follow his instruction gladly, bringing my free hand up to my breasts and squeezing the right one.

“Want you to pinch your nipple now. Pinch it, hard enough to make your back arch. Don’t be shy, love. I want to know how it feels.”

“Feels so good, Benny,” I gasped. 

“God, I bet it does. Wish that could be me…wish I could brush my lips over your skin, see the shudders going down your spine. Tell me, love, which hand is your dominant hand?”

“Right,” I said. 

“Alright. I want your _left_ hand to stay right there, right there on your perfect tits. And I want you to bring your _right_ hand…down to your panties.”

“Um, Ben?” I giggled. “I’m using my left hand. To hold the phone.”

“Oh.” Ben snorted. “Well, are you home alone? Can you put me on speaker?”

“Yeah… Actually, hold on.” I reached in my bedside table and withdrew my microphone earbuds, the same ones I used to listen to Ben’s audio last night. “Okay, I’m using my earbuds now. Can you hear me?”

“Yep, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I smiled. His voice was right in my ears again, just like last night…lush, slightly raspy. “I’m hands-free.”

“Problem solved, then. Alright, let’s try this again. Left hand, on your chest.”

“Yes sir,” I giggled, but Ben moaned a little.

“I love it when you call me that,” he murmured. I pursed my lips in approval. _So I’ve discovered a kink. Noted._ “I want you to pinch your nipples again, get them nice and hard for me. Are you doing that?”

“Yeah,” I said, but when Ben made a sound of disapproval, I quickly corrected myself before he could say anything. “Yes sir.”

“You’re a quick study,” he said. “Good girl. I want you…to let your other hand…rest on top of your pretty little cunt. No friction yet. Do exactly as I say. We’re gonna draw this out nice and good for you.”

I did, and my hips bucked up in response to the heat of my hand. It felt like I was throbbing with anticipation and impatience, and I both hated and loved it. 

“Tell me, Y/N. What do you feel?”

“Good,” I blurted. Ben sniggered at my response. 

“Not what I meant. I want you to tell me what you’re feeling, with your fingers.”

“I feel wet,” I answered hoarsely. “ _So_ wet. I can feel it pooling through my panties.”

Ben cursed, his voice a little distant. I imagined he’d turned his mouth away from the microphone and tilted his head back with desire as he cursed, thinking about how wet I was. I imagined he was touching himself.

“I wanna be there so fucking bad,” he nearly whined. I whined back, because the weight of my hand on my pussy was nothing but a tease. I wanted him to let me touch myself already, _really_ touch myself. I was _aching_ to be able to fuck myself. 

“Ben,” I groaned. “I want to know what you’re doing. I want to be able to see.”

“Do you want another photo, princess? Is that what you want?”

I whimpered and nodded, but of course he couldn’t see that, so I said, “Yes, god yes.”

“Hold tight for me. Just a minute.”

I bit my lip, and all I could think about was the sticky wetness seeping through the thin white fabric of my underwear. I felt the palm of my hand resting agonizingly against my clit, and there was a fire forming at the pit of my stomach. 

“Ben,” I sighed, wanting to describe it to him. “My hand feels so good on my pussy like this. I want it to be your hand, _fuck.”_ The desire was growing in my tummy, and I groaned at how badly I needed to touch myself. My fingers started inching up toward my clit. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. “I can’t stand it any longer, Ben. I need to touch myself, I—” 

The edge of my nail brushed over the sensitive bud of nerves, and my hips jolted in response. “ _Oh god, it feels so good—_ ”

“No,” Ben snapped, his voice cold as ice. “I didn’t say you could get yourself off yet.”

I sucked in a sharp inhale. My toes curled. For someone so perpetually afraid of being reprimanded, I was shocked at the arousing effect Ben’s words had on me. 

“Hands off. Now.”

My eyelids fluttered. “B-Ben—”

“ _Now._ Both hands off, by your sides. _”_

Reluctantly, I withdrew my hands from my body and glued them to the mattress beside me. The heat between my legs seemed to ache at the sudden loss of pressure. “Okay,” I whispered.

Ben _tsk_ ed. “You’re usually so good, Y/N. I want you to be my _good girl_ , my dirty little good girl. But only on my terms, love. And if you can’t listen to my instructions…”

I gulped.

“You don’t want to be a _bad_ girl, do you?”

“No. I mean… No sir.”

“Then just keep your hands right there by your sides until I say you can move them.”

“Yes sir.”

I couldn’t believe how drastically this conversation had shifted. One minute, I was in charge, and the next, the power flipped and I was completely at _his_ mercy. It was clear now that Ben _liked_ being in charge. No wonder he had been so miffed when I flipped the power and took charge over him. 

And I had to admit, I liked it, too. Ben’s scolding left me vexed, completely under his spell. 

“I should just delete this photo I was about to send,” Ben threatened. “But you don’t want that, do you?”

“No…”

“Speak up, princess. I can’t hear you.”

Another chill ran through my veins, and it quelled the words on my lips.

“Y/N?” Ben’s voice changed. “Y/N, you gotta talk to me, baby.”

“Ben, I…”

“Let me know if I need to tone it down a bit,” he spoke quietly, and it felt as if he was breaking character. “Okay, Y/N love? Please, let me know if I’m being too dominant, and I’ll tone it down, and we’ll keep going.”

“No,” I whispered. “I like it.”

“What’s that?”

“I like it,” I repeated, louder this time.

“You like it?” 

My skin prickled at his voice. “Yes.”

“Mmm, princess. You like it when I’m dominant, huh? You like it when I’m in charge, telling you what to do?” 

“Yes, yes,” I mewled, tugging at my bedsheets.

“I’ll give you what you want, then. Check your texts.”

I made haste in grabbing my phone and checking for Ben’s message. He’d sent the photo of himself I’d requested. He’d taken it while laying flat on his hotel bed, and all I could see was his toned torso down…and one muscular hand cradling the thick bulge in his Calvin Kleins.

My mouth went dry, completely dry, as I stared at the photo. He looked so _alluring._ And the _bulge…_

“Ben,” I rasped. “Holy shit.”

“Like what you see?”

I answered only with the most frustrated groan. Ben chuckled in my ears.

“I thought you might.” He shifted in his bed, and I heard the sheets rumple. “I’m going to talk to you, give you a little something to think about, love. But you keep your hands off your body, just like I told you to. Don’t be a bad girl. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Mmm.” I listened intently, desperate to hear the rasp in his voice. “Well, you were right before when you said I looked uncomfortable in these boxer shorts. I’m slipping them off right now…down my legs. Bloody hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard before in my life.”

I imagined Ben’s cock, straining to get out of his underwear, then finally springing out, slapping against his abdomen… _fuck,_ I wanted to know what he looked like. I wanted another picture, _so bad._

“Wish you could feel me, love. Hard as a fucking rod…already leaking from the tip. All for you, baby.” I nearly see spots at the sudden realization that I can _hear_ Ben touching himself, the distinct sound of a slick sort of friction. Sure enough, Ben says, “It feels _so good_ to wank off, looking at this photo of you in your sexy little panties.”

I just whined and squirmed in my bedsheets. It wasn’t fair that Ben could tease me like this by touching himself while I wasn’t allowed to do the same. I _could_ touch myself…but he told me not to. I didn’t want to break the rule. A part of me knew that it was irrational—he was five hundred miles away! He wouldn’t know! He couldn’t stop me!—but yet, somehow, the idea that he would punish me for disobeying was enough to keep my hands away from myself. 

I’d be his good girl right now. But I didn’t have to like it. 

“Ben, I can’t stand this,” I complained. My thighs were pressed together in a feeble attempt at gaining friction. “Please.”

Ben hummed, almost condescendingly. “Are you feeling left out?” he crooned. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you, love. Mmm, shit…”

I could hear him rubbing himself so clearly, and I groaned again. “Please, I want to touch myself, too.”

“Will you promise to be a good girl for me, Y/N?” Ben drawled. “Promise me you will.”

“I promise,” I breathed. 

Ben grunted in affirmation. “Good. Go ahead, now. Touch yourself. Touch that pretty little cunt.”

I blinked, but as soon as his words sunk in, my hands hurried fervently to the junction of my thighs. Almost as if he anticipated it, Ben said, “ _Slowly,_ now. Don’t want you moving too quick. Tell me what you’re doing, baby.”

I moaned at the sweet relief of movement. “Rubbing myself,” I gasped, trying to formulate the words properly, “through my panties. Feels so fucking good.”

“Good,” Ben huffed. “Nice and slow now. I want you stroking yourself nice and slow, just like I am. Feel every motion.”

I did, rubbing the fingers of my right hand over my clothed clit back and forth with agonizing slowness. My left hand rested on my inner thigh, where the skin was raised with goosebumps. I couldn’t contain the periodic gasps coming through my lips as my arousal grew. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, Y/N, love?” Ben asked. 

I was. I let out a small moan in lieu of an answer. Ben chuckled. 

“Home alone, touching yourself to the sound of my voice… You’re such a dirty, naughty girl,” Ben purred beside my ear, and hearing _those_ words from _his_ mouth in _that_ accent had my core clenching. I wanted something inside me, _now._

“Please, Ben,” I pleaded, my hips squirming. 

“Please what?”

“Please let me take off my panties,” I gasped. 

“Mmm, I almost forgot you were still wearing them.” Ben’s voice was more and more strained in quality. “Since you asked so sweetly…go ahead.”

I slipped the thin fabric off my ass. There was a warm wet spot on the crotch. I pulled the underwear down my legs and discarded them in the direction of my dirty clothes hamper.

“Can I touch myself again?” I asked Ben, desperately hoping he would say yes.

“God, yes,” he said. “Tell me just how wet you’ve gotten yourself, princess.”

And before Ben could change his mind, I let one finger slide through the slick that was dribbling out of my entrance. A shudder racked my body. 

“I’m dripping wet,” I whispered. 

“ _Christ_.” The most delicious grunts were coming from Ben’s throat. “All I can think about is your wet little pussy…just _soaking…_ beads of your wetness dribbling out of you.”

“Ben.” My fingers were shaking with anticipation. 

“Just wanna pin you down and lap you up. _Fuck_ ,” he grunted. “Wanna make you squirm under my tongue.” I wanted to scream in frustration. “Wanna get you all lubed up. Wanna slide my cock all the way into your pulsing, throbbing cunt…”

“Let me fuck myself, Ben,” I blurted. “Please.”

Ben seemed surprised by the sudden volume in my voice. “You wanna be filled up, love? Is that what you want?”

“ _Yes sir_ , please,” I begged. 

“That’s my good girl,” Ben growled. “Begging to be fucked…can’t believe how dirty you are.”

“Can I…?”

“Yes,” he said, granting me permission. 

I pushed my left middle finger past my folds, plunging into the wetness, and nearly cried out. The stretch, the slight burn, the waves of pleasure that soothed it all as I massaged myself from the inside out. 

“Wish I could see you like this, fucking yourself with your fingers,” Ben murmured. “Bet you look so bloody good, Y/N. So sexy, so beautiful, with those sounds coming from your lips. Let me hear it. Let me hear how good you make yourself feel.”

I did, and Ben moaned back in approval. I found myself rubbing my clit again with my other hand, this time faster, in quick little circles. 

“Want it to be you,” I said through panting breaths. “Your fingers, your cock. _Ben._ I want your cock fucking me, _so fucking deep.”_

“Y/N,” Ben moaned, and it was like a grand symphony, the way he moaned my name. I fingered myself faster, chasing that familiar clenching pleasure from deep within. “Beautiful, perfect Y/N.”

“I’m so close,” I whispered, the realization coming quickly. The waves of pleasure were coming in closer succession, now, and I whined and bucked my hips to meet every swell.

“Mmm, yes, baby. Yes. _Yes._ ” Ben’s moaning grew and grew in intensity until he sounded almost animalistic as he chased his own high. The idea that he was in his own bed, five hundred miles away, moaning and writhing himself but to the sound of _my_ voice, was almost too much. 

I wet my lips, which were dry from how heavily I’d been breathing, and opened my mouth to say something, but I found that I couldn’t. A moan stole my words, then another one, then another. I couldn’t help it.

“Ben,” I finally said in desperation. My hands ceased to feel like my own, and my mind latched itself onto the only thing it could: _Ben_. I cried his name again, then again. 

“You gonna cum for me?” Ben was breathing so heavily in my earbuds, he might as well have been right there next to me, whispering in the shell of my ear. “I’m so close, Y/N, _fuuuck._ So fucking close. Gonna cum all over myself, all over my stomach, just for you.”

“ _Ben,”_ I repeated again, this time with a new urgency. I felt like I was about to explode. “I’m… I’m so close…”

But Ben was closer. His breaths were wild and frantic, and I could hear him grunting rhythmically to the motions of his hand on his cock. “I’m coming,” Ben announced, and I could hardly believe how good he sounded like this, his voice strained and shot, as he climaxed.

It was enough for me. A final wave of pleasure hit, and it didn’t ebb away this time, only grew and grew and grew. “I’m coming, Ben, I… I…”

“It’s okay, princess, you can let go,” he murmured, his voice suddenly so hoarse and gravely and fucked out. “Let go for me. Cum all over your fingers for me.”

That was it. My back arched like I’d been electrocuted. My orgasm hit like a tsunami, engulfing me completely, sending thousands and thousands of warm ripples over my body. I was hardly aware of my voice, the uncontrollable sobs spilling from my lips. I was hardly aware of anything, until Ben’s voice cut through the haze:

“That’s it, ride it out, baby, that’s it. Good girl. _Good girl._ ”

I writhed. My body was a live wire, and as fervently I had wanted to touch it just seconds before, I was completely overstimulated now. I cast my hands to the sheets, tangling my fingers in them as my moans died away. Wetness seeped from my core as it convulsed over and over again, and I could feel the mess I’d made pooling in the sheets under my ass. 

“Just relax now, love. You did amazing.”

“Mmm, Ben…” My voice was so weak that it broke. 

“Oh, fuck, Y/N, listen to you.” Ben’s voice was soft now, warmer again. “You’re completely spent. Fucked out. God, you’re beautiful. So, so beautiful. You did so well.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know,” he laughed breathlessly. 

“Ben,” I said.

“What is it.”

“I love being your good girl.”

I heard him smile. “You always will be.”

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading part 6 of GG ♡ ✧・ﾟ:* Please note that the Ben Jones/Hardy name story is completely fictionalized and fabricated by me! In no way do I claim to know the true reason that Ben Hardy changed his stage name. (But I wish I did!)
> 
> Anyway…any predictions for parts 7 and 8? This miniseries is almost complete :( But there’s a lot to happen!
> 
> ♡ 
> 
> For those who are wondering when parts 7 and 8 will come out…I have no idea! I leave for vacation to London and England in a week and I wanted to use the time I have left before leaving to work on my other series Matters of the Heart. So I hope you’ll be patient with me 💕


	7. part seven

**originally posted on Tumblr at<https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/>**

**A/N:** Thank you eternally for your patience as I worked for all these months to finish this series! As I mentioned in [this post](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/190201658954/some-updates-on-good-girl)…

> I had originally intended to post the final parts [of Good Girl] a few months ago, but something really major happened in my life. My boyfriend of four years and I broke up, and it sort of turned my life upside down. Not only did I lose a lot of my creative energy, but I also couldn’t bear to finish and publish the remaining chapters of Good Girl which I had written while I was still in a relationship.

> Let me explain. A few days ago, I finally went back and re-read all of Good Girl, including the unpublished chapters…and wow. I was in a _completely_ different headspace back then. It was as if all my anxiety from my own crumbling relationship was seeping into my writing, and it all became memorialized into my dialogue. Looking back on it now, I can’t believe some of what I had written. I’ve grown tremendously in my confidence and self-respect since my breakup. Needless to say, I knew I had to rewrite those chapters, but I also knew it would take me a lot of time and mental energy to do it.

So, here it is! Hope you enjoy :) This fic will actually be nine parts now instead of eight!

**As soon as this part gets to 400 notes, I will release part 8 of the series! So be sure to reblog, comment, and spread the word! ◡̈**

Thank you to [@brianprobablywill](https://tmblr.co/ml7SMGcX91hwQ-ZM0yKSxSQ), [@just-my-sickly-pride](https://tmblr.co/ml7DG2HElmoCoZYmTSlilSw), and [@supersonicfreddie](https://tmblr.co/mXIio-0AYI2ENtRaZWNozng) for beta reading this ages ago!

I made a Good Girl series [moodboard](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/186294085624/good-girl-ben-hardy-x-dogsitterreader-moodboard)! Go give it a like / reblog ◡̈

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

_Where we left off:_

_…_

_“Holy shit.”_

_“I know,” he laughed breathlessly._

_“Ben,” I said._

_“What is it.”_

_“I love being your good girl.”_

_I heard him smile. “You always will be.”_

…

Thursday 11 July

I awoke the next morning feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all. There were sporadic thunderstorms all through the night, and while I usually slept like a baby when it rained, the crashes of thunder and flashes of lightning through my bedroom window kept stirring me from deep sleep. But despite my exhaustion in the morning, I couldn’t help but look at my droopy eyes and mussed-up hair in the reflection and smile to myself. The memories of my phone conversation with Ben were slowly coming back to mind.

_Holy fuck, we had phone sex._

Straight up phone sex. Like, _I got off to him getting off, he got off to me getting off, phone sex._

And it had been _amazing._ The dynamic between us, the lust and ardor in his voice, the sensuality of it all… It couldn’t have been more perfect. I couldn’t believe I’d never attempted phone sex before, because _Jesus fuck_ was that hot as hell. And possibly one of the best orgasms I’d had in a long, long time…

And the best part about it all? The unspoken promise that it would happen again, and that it would get even _better_ when we met in person. The idea of it sent ripples of pleasure down my spine again—it was 7:30 in the freaking morning, and I was _already_ turned on at the mere thought of seeing Ben for real. If I had been excited before about his return from his trip on Friday evening, I was practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation now. 

_Friday. That’s tomorrow._

Ben was returning from Belfast _tomorrow night._ God, was I even ready to see him in person again?

Of course I was ready. I felt nervous, but not a bad kind of nervous.

The only legitimate plans he and I had made up to this point was for a coffee date on Tuesday. _God, a coffee date. So tame_. So much had changed since those early stages of text-flirting. If the next time I got to see Ben was at a coffee shop…knowing myself, I wouldn’t be able to sit across from him for ten minutes without thinking about jumping his bones.

_When did I turn into such a sex addict?_

Not to mention, Tuesday was _way_ too long to wait. I couldn’t bear the fact that Ben is coming back _tomorrow night_ and I would have to wait a full four days before I could see him again.

I wanted to see him right away. And I had a feeling that he felt the same way.

As I waited for my coffee to brew, I pulled up my texts with Ben and typed out a new message:

**_I absolutely, positively, undoubtedly cant wait to see you in person again._**

And as I left the flat and got to my car, coffee in hand, I received a reply:

**I absolutely, positively, undoubtedly agree 😍**

**———**

I drove to Ben’s condo for my first visit of the day. The storms had cleared up during the night, and a brilliant July morning sun evoked a groggy haze from the wet streets. I couldn’t believe that after tomorrow, I wouldn’t be making this commute anymore. At least, not just as Frankie’s dogsitter. Perhaps I would be something more…

When I pulled up to my usual parking place beside Ben’s condominium building, I was surprised at how many random people seemed to be standing around the area. There were a handful of loiterers, encumbered by large backpacks over their shoulders. Ben lived in a pretty ritzy part of town, and aside from the usual joggers and businessmen on the sidewalks, I hadn’t noticed any out-of-place characters around the area before. But I tried not to pay them any heed as I punched the code on the intercom system and went up to the fifth floor. 

As per usual, Frankie started howling from inside the flat as soon as she heard the doorknob rattle. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just me, pup,” I cooed as I opened the door. “Okay, back up so I can come in! Are you— _holy shit.”_

I gaped at the state of Ben’s living room. Frankie sniffed in circles around my heels, but I was too dazed to pay her any attention.

There was white stuffing _everywhere._ Both of the couch seat cushions were completely destroyed and gutted, and its fluffy innards were scattered in tufts across the entire living room and all the way into the kitchen. 

Slowly, I drew my eyes down to Frankie. She jumped up on my calves and gazed up at me with innocent brown eyes, her tongue lolling out to the side, a conspicuous white tuft stuck to her black nose. It was as if she was saying, _What’s the holdup? Let’s go outside already!_

“Frankie, what have you _done?”_

Frankie cocked her head and perked her ears up. _What? I didn’t do anything._

I took a gander at the flat again, ran my hands through my scalp, and cursed under my breath. It looked like a snowy winter landscape on a Christmas card…or a graphic couch cushion murder scene. What the hell even _happened?_ Ben never mentioned anything about any destructive behaviors from Frankie. Clearly, she got bored…

Or anxious. The thunderstorm last night was pretty intense. Could she have gotten anxiety from the storm? I pulled my phone out to call Ben, but he wasn’t answering. I left him a message on the Fido app instead: 

**Y/N:** Just wanted to let you know that you’re gonna need some new couch cushions :/

I hesitated at first to include a photo of the damage, but I figured it was best if he knew what had happened. I took a quick panorama of the damage and hesitantly sent it with the message. 

“Did you get anxious, poor girl?” I asked Frankie, frowning down at her. But she just thumped her white-tipped tail against the wall and smiled up at me. If she’d had a rough time with the storms last night, she seemed just fine now.

I took her downstairs and outside first thing so she could relieve herself, and then I set to work cleaning up the place while she ate her breakfast. There was enough couch stuffing strewn across the floor to fill two large rubbish bags. I threw the torn-up cushion fabric in one of the bags, tied them off, and placed them outside in the hallway. In the meantime, Ben finally replied to my message:

**BEN:** JESUS Franks 😱 She’s never ever done that before. Sorry I can’t talk, I’m busy. She ok?

**Y/N:** She’s ok. Does she tend to get anxious during thunderstorms? It stormed pretty bad last night.

**BEN:** Sometimes but she hasn’t destroyed anything since she was a pup. I should have told you to give her one of her anxiety pills before last night. Ugggg I feel like such a bad dog dad :(

**Y/N:** You’re not!!! You’re an amazing dog dad!!!

**BEN:** I dont feel like it 😔 She must have gotten so anxious. I knew I should have boarded her 

A jolt of irrational guilt manifested in my stomach. Ben must be regretting hiring me. I knew it wasn’t my fault that Frankie got anxious last night—I was only doing what Ben instructed me to do—but I couldn’t help from blaming myself.

But almost as if Ben read my mind from five hundred miles away, he texted:

**BEN:** But please don’t feel like it’s your fault. Youve been such a great dogsitter to Frankie :) Needless to say, I’ll be one of your repeat customers lol

**Y/N:** Thanks Ben 😌

**BEN:** Is it going to storm again? You can give her one of her pills in the orange container. Top left cupboard in the kitchen. She’ll only eat them with peanut butter or a slice of cheese lol

I checked the weather radar; there was a chance of storms later on. I sent Ben a thumbs up and located Frankie’s pills in the cabinet. She observed me with big, curious eyes as I took one of the pills and wedged it into a slice of cheese from the fridge.

“Mmm, yummy cheese,” I said excitedly as I crouched to Frankie’s level. She immediately started drooling at the sight of the cheese and proceeded to lie down, roll over, offer her paw, and bark all in succession, as if she was demonstrating every trick in the book. I laughed and gave her head a scratch before handing her the treat. “Good girl!” 

Frankie accepted the cheese with the gentlest lap of her tongue. But somehow, she managed to swallow the cheese but not the pill. She stuck her tongue out in an attempt to spit the pill out of her mouth. It fell to the floor and she stared at it seemingly in disgust _._ _This is not cheese,_ she seemed to say. 

Baffled, I tried again with the discarded pill and a new slice of cheese…but only yielding the same results. “How are you doing that?” I asked her, laughing in disbelief.

She just looked up at me and licked her chops. _You’re not fooling me, human._

“Let’s try this one more time,” I muttered and got _two_ slices of cheese, pushing the pill inside one. “Here, girl,” I said, offering the one with the pill first, but before she could spit it out again, I offered her the second slice. Her eyes went wide, and she forgot about the pill on her tongue as she scarfed everything down.

“Gotcha! Third time’s a charm. No more tearing up couch cushions for you,” I scolded her. But she just wagged her tail and made a high-pitched whine. I couldn’t help but scratch her ears and kiss her snout.

I played with Frankie for a while, throwing her a tennis ball down the hallway and laughing as she loped after it, her ears flopping.

My mind wandered as we played, wandered back to the thought of Ben and his velvet voice. Small memories of the things he purred in my ears last night began flooding back to memory… 

_Tell me… Did you touch yourself to the sound of my voice?…_

_I’d love to recreate that for you, princess. In live time. Right here, right now. I’d love to get you off with my voice._

I took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling strangely shaky. Jesus Christ. He really said all those things. Ben Fucking Hardy said those dirty things, to me, and he meant them. It felt as if the butterflies in my tummy would never go away. This is a feeling I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Frankie whined, and I realized I’d forgotten to throw the tennis ball. I tossed it down the hallway again, and as she chased after it, my eyes wandered to the bathroom door down the hallway. _Ben’s shower._

_The showerhead._

He’d invited me to use it. Fuck, he _wanted_ me to use it. I didn’t have to be at my next client’s house for another couple of hours… I could give Frankie a peanut butter-filled Kong to keep her busy…and the memories of last night have sure as hell gotten me worked up…

_Fuck, you look perfect. Look at you. Such a sexy little thing, Y/N._

Carefully, I stood and padded my way down the hallway, creaking the bathroom door open. There loomed the shower in question, the retractable showerhead taunting me, luring me in…

_Fucking Christ, it’s eight-thirty in the morning._

I glanced down at Frankie. She cocked her head up at me, her ears perked. “Do you like peanut butter?” I asked her.

Her tail wagged.

I made haste in locating her Kong toy and filling it with a gob of peanut butter from Ben’s cupboard. She whined excitedly as I placed a towel over the carpet in the living room and handed her the Kong. Sure enough, once she got to work licking the peanut butter from it, she paid me no heed as I traipsed back to the bathroom.

_Oh god oh god oh god._ I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this. I closed the door and turned the handle of the shower, waiting for it to warm. Then I pulled off my clothes in front of the mirror. I studied my naked reflection, and to my surprise, I smiled a bit at it. God, I used to hate stripping in front of a mirror, but the idea that I was at _Ben’s_ flat, about to step into _Ben’s_ shower and get myself off… It felt taboo, it felt risky, it felt _sexy._

My curiosity was almost suffocating. I stepped into the cool porcelain of the bathtub and let the hot water wash over my chest and stomach, running down my legs. It was a nice shower, nicer than the one in my shitty flat which had lost nearly all its water pressure and tended to cut in and out if too many people on our storey were using water at the same time. But Ben’s shower functioned perfectly.

Nervously, I reached up to the retractable showerhead, switching it on…and my eyes widened at the little knob at the side, which allowed changes in the functions of the way water came out. I switched it from _spray_ to _mist…_ to _jet,_ oh god no…to _rain…_

…to _massage._ The flow of water pulsed regularly from the showerhead.

_Well. Here goes nothing_. I double-checked the water temperature and inched the showerhead down my body, lower and lower…

Oh _. Oh_.

Immediately, I knew that I would have to lean against the wall, for fear that my legs would buckle. _Holy shit. Holy fucking shit._ It was legitimately unlike any vibrator I’d used, unlike anything I could do with my fingers…

It felt like someone’s mouth, warm and wet against me.

My thoughts reeled to Ben, the thought of Ben’s deep-set eyes locked on mine, his arms wrapped around my thighs, pinning my hips down to the bed, his mouth locked on my pussy, his tongue lapping at my clit… 

_You are making me so hard, it’s unbearable…_

_Y/N, you naughty girl…_

My head fell back against the tile wall, my mouth open in a silent moan. God, I wanted Ben. I _needed_ Ben. And I was going to see him again _so soon…_

_Tell me just how wet you’ve gotten yourself, princess…_

I needed more, just a bit more. Shakily, I reached a hand toward the temperature handle, nudging it just a millimeter hotter…

“Oh my god, holy fuck,” I moaned aloud, bucking my hips into the water. 

_That’s my good girl._

Desperate sounds fell from my lips, uncontrollable. My body grew flushed and hot. “Ben,” I keened, knowing full well that he wasn’t here, and yet the idea of _moaning his name aloud_ brought me right to the edge. “Ben, _please…”_

_Begging to be fucked…can’t believe how dirty you are…_

My orgasm spread over me like fire. I barely registered as I cried out, my thighs shaking. When I finally wrenched the showerhead away, I slid to the shower floor, panting, quaking, unable to move to even turn off the water.

_Holy. Fucking. Fuck._

As soon as I came to my senses, I waited for the familiar sheepish feeling to settle in, the way it sometimes did after I got myself off. But it didn’t come this time. Instead, I felt devilish. I giggled to myself, which turned into a full-on laugh. I felt so dirty, so _sexy,_ and it was a good feeling. I felt like I could do that again, and again.

Frankie whined and scratched at the bathroom door.

———

The dogsitter gods must have really been conspiring against me on that fitful Thursday afternoon, because it seemed that everything that could go wrong was going wrong. After the fiasco at Ben’s with the torn couch cushion, I wrongfully assumed that the most stressful part of my day was over, but little did I know what was yet to come.

First, Kaz the border collie’s leash literally _snapped_ , and I had to chase him down the street and catch him before he could lunge for a neighbor’s cat sitting on a windowsill. Then, during my drop-in visit with a skittish pair of borzois, I locked myself out of the client’s house and had to climb over the backyard fence to get myself back in through the front door, properly embarrassing myself in front of a gathering of chuckling men barbequing sausages in the next yard over. And finally, as if my day weren’t already bad enough, I traveled all the way to East London for a meet-and-greet with a new client who wasn’t even home to greet me.

Dejected, I started my drive home, fully intending to just crash on the couch until the evening rolled around and I would have to drive back to Ben’s condo for Frankie’s evening visit. It was a Thursday night, and my flatmate Paige would inevitably be exhausted from the long week at her summer internship. I could look forward to either a relaxed evening spent at home hanging out with Paige…or an early start to a weekend of partying and drinking. It could go either way with Paige. Usually, I was satisfied doing either, but tonight I had an inkling to just stay in and watch Netflix and paint our nails.

I stopped for a late lunch at a cafe just a few minutes from my flat. It was there, after I ordered a sandwich and a cup of tea, that I got a call from Ben. I smiled and accepted the call, pressing the speaker to my ear.

“Hey, you,” I greeted him.

“Hey, _you,”_ Ben copied, his voice cheery. I smiled to myself, feeling giddy. I could definitely get used to these casual greetings. 

“What’s up?” I asked him. I could hear a commotion in the background. I wondered what he was up to.

“It’s been hectic,” he said. “We did our final script read-through this morning, and I’m about to head to a couple of interviews with my co-stars.”

“Oooh, that’s fun!”

“I feel bad that I wasn’t able to talk earlier this morning,” Ben said, “so I wanted to call and see how you were doing…say hello.” 

_Damn, that’s so fucking sweet, I’m gonna explode._ “I’ve had the _longest_ day,” I said with a groan. I thought of my _long_ morning visit at Ben’s flat. _Should I tell him what I did in his shower?_

_God, no, Y/N. Not yet, at least._

“But I’m great, just stopped for lunch before I head back to Frankie in a few hours. Thanks for calling, Ben.”

“My pleasure,” he said. 

“Sorry again about the couch cushion,” I fretted, twirling a lock of hair in my fingers.

“No worries. It’s just a couch cushion. I’m glad you could be there for Franks!” 

“Do you miss her?” I asked.

“I really do. She’s the best pup. Honestly, though, I wish I could be a better dog dad to her.”

“What? Ben, don’t say that again! You are a good dog dad!” I reassured him. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“I really do feel bad, though,” Ben said dejectedly. “Now that I’m getting busy with filming again, I won’t get to see her as often. And, I mean, a flat’s not the best place to keep a dog, anyway. I wish I could move to a big house somewhere and let her roam around the countryside.”

I almost laughed. I wasn’t expecting that from him at all. “So you prefer the countryside, then?”

“Yes. Well, I would think so. I’ve never lived in the countryside. But it must be really nice. Frankie would love it. She’s probably bored being cooped up in that flat. I mean, when I’m home, I walk her down to Hyde Park every day. She _loves_ playing fetch. But I wouldn’t want to ask a dogsitter to go that far.”

“I could take her to the park sometime, if you want me to,” I offered. Hyde Park wasn’t too far from his condo, maybe a fifteen-minute walk.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I think the weather’s a bit wet tonight, but I could take her tomorrow. I don’t have any visits after her in the evening.”

“You’d do that? She would _love_ that.”

“Of course! Might have to charge you a few extra quid,” I joked.

“Hmm,” Ben hummed. “Is that your only accepted form of payment?”

_Oop._ “I’m open to negotiating other forms.”

“I can think of a few alternatives.” He paused before adding, “But in all seriousness, I’d totally pay you extra for taking her to the park tomorrow.”

“Okay, good,” I laughed. I could definitely use some extra cash. Feeling bold, I added, “You may tip me in kisses.”

“Now _that_ I can arrange.”

I might as well have been on a spinning teacup ride from the way my stomach was dancing at his words. “Hey,” I said quietly, biting a smile back so I wouldn’t look like a weirdo in the cafe.

“Hey what?”

“I wanna see you,” I admitted. “Bad.”

“You will,” Ben assured me.

“Yeah, but… Do I really have to wait until Tuesday?” I whined.

“What’s on Tuesday?”

“You asked me to meet up for a coffee date on Tuesday, remember? I don’t think I can wait that long.”

“Oh, the coffee date,” Ben said and scoffed, but I could tell he was still smirking. “I think we’re well beyond the ‘coffee date’ phase.”

“What phase are we on, then?”

“I’m thinking…fancy candle-lit dinner at your favorite restaurant,” Ben said, his voice lush. “What _is_ your favorite restaurant?”

“Would you call things off with me if I said Nando’s?” I joked.

“If you’re fancying a cheeky Nando’s, then we’re going for a cheeky Nando’s, no questions asked.”

I laughed. “Well, as nice as a dinner date sounds, didn’t you say you’re getting back late tomorrow night? All the decent restaurants will be closed.”

“Mmm, tomorrow night? So soon? Is that what you’re thinking? You’re really quite eager to see me, aren’t you, love?”

He’d meant to be playful, but I hesitated. I probably sounded needy and annoying. After a few seconds of not saying much, Ben seemed to catch on, and he added, “Well, you’re in luck, because I’m absolutely dying to see you, too.”

“Really?”

“Really. You know, it’s so funny how surprised you seem every time I say something even remotely nice to you.”

I gnawed at my lip. “I know…sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“I dunno…” I sighed. “For always…second-guessing you, I suppose. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that…”

I didn’t finish my thought, because I knew internally what was eating away at me, and it wasn’t anything I could properly verbalize. It was because the last boy who’d told me these things had been Mark. And he clearly hadn’t meant any of them.

“Hey, now,” Ben said in a low purr, and I imagined how he would look…his head dipped slightly to look me in the eyes, his brows raised, his lips pursed. “I mean it. I wouldn’t lie. Even if I have to constantly remind you that I like you to get you to believe me, then I’ll gladly remind you every five seconds.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said with a chuckle.

Ben cleared his throat dramatically. “Hey, Y/N. I have to admit something…”

“…What?”

“I like you. A lot.”

I giggled, then, a little shyly. “I like you, too.”

“I don’t think I can wait until Tuesday to see you, either. And… I have an idea.”

“What is it?” 

“You said that you don’t have any other clients after Frankie tomorrow evening, right?”

“She’s my last one, yeah.”

“Well, if you don’t have any plans…” Ben trailed off, and I held my breath in anticipation. “…How would you feel about staying over at my flat with Frankie for the evening?”

_Oh._

“I—what?” I stammered. “What do—what do you mean?”

“What I mean is, my flight gets in pretty late, and I’ll probably be home close to midnight. And… I’m asking if you’d like to wait for me there tomorrow night.”

_Whoa._ He’s asking me to stay in his flat for the evening…wait for him to arrive home… _stay the night?_ I nearly fainted in my barstool at the cafe.

“Or if not, that’s okay, too,” Ben rushed. “We can wait until Saturday to—”

“I’d like that,” I interrupted him, my voice a squeak.

“What?”

“I’d like to come over,” I said. “If…if that’s what you want, too.”

“I would _love_ that,” Ben answered.

_Holy shit._ I fluttered my eyelashes, feeling faint and jittery and anxious, but in the best of ways. “Me too.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Did you know that I like you a lot?”

My heart nearly exploded. I couldn’t help myself from pressing my hands to my mouth and squealing a little. 

“Well?” Ben prompted. “Did you know that?”

“I think I could get used to hearing you say that,” I squeaked.

“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna keep saying it.”

“Hey, Ben?”

“Yes?”

“When you say, _wait for you…”_ Flustered, I cleared my throat and tried again. “When you asked if I wanted to _wait for you_ in your flat tomorrow night, does that mean…you want me to…stay for…?”

“Only if that’s what you want, too,” Ben said knowingly.

“Yes, I want to,” I rushed to say.

“I want you to, too,” he agreed.

_FUCKFUCKHOLYFUCK._ I smiled and opened my mouth to say something else, but my phone vibrated against my ear. I looked down at the screen; Paige was trying to call me.

“Hey, this is my flatmate calling.”

“You wanna put me on hold?” he asked. My smile grew at the idea that he wanted to keep talking.

“Sure, give me a minute.” 

I put Ben on hold and answered Paige’s call. “Hey, Paige,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Are you coming home soon?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I’m at the cafe, about ten minutes away. What’s the plan for tonight? Are you free?”

“We need to talk,” Paige said. I suddenly registered the urgency in her tone.

“Oh… What’s wrong?” I asked cautiously. 

“Just… I think you should get home as soon as you can.”

I picked at the sandwich crumbs on my plate. “Is it about Scott?”

“No,” Paige said. “It’s about Ben.”

I froze. _Ben?_

“What about Ben?” I asked.

“I…I really think we should talk about it in person. But he’s not who you think he is, Y/N.”

_Shit._ “Okay…” I grabbed my bag and stood up from my seat. “I’m on my way.”

Paige ended the call without another word, and I suddenly felt so nervous that I wanted to call her back again and demand she told me now. What could she possibly be talking about? Paige could be melodramatic at times, but something in her voice made me really, really anxious.

“Hey, I’m back,” I said after re-connecting to Ben’s call.

“How’s Paige?” Ben asked, completely oblivious to what she had just said.

_I shouldn’t mention anything…_

“Good, I think. Um, she wants me to come home now, so I’m gonna get going.”

“Well, I won’t hold you any longer,” Ben said. “But…before you go…”

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say…that I really like you a lot, Y/N. Just in case you forgot.”

I gulped. For some reason, I felt weird about his words of reassurance this time around. “Thanks, Ben.”

“You’re for real about coming over on Friday? Tomorrow?”

I hesitated. Was there something about Ben that I didn’t know…? Something Paige was going to share with me? Something _bad?_

“Yes, I’m sure,” I finally answered. But if I was being honest, I wasn’t so sure about it at all anymore.

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

**A/N:** Thanks for reading part 7 of GG ♡ ✧・ﾟ:* Any thoughts about Paige’s phone call? What could she be worried about?

♡

 **It is thanks to the terrific support of you, my readers, who interact with my fanfics with your honest thoughts and genuine reviews, that I am inspired to continue writing. Without these comments, I lose motivation.** I write fanfiction for free (although I accept donations at [https://ko-fi.com/sweetladyy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fsweetladyy&t=OTRhZTEwN2ExNTUzMzE2OGZmODI3N2FlYzU4ZDc5ZDhkYmE2YWEwOCx0VWpac2JNaA%3D%3D&b=t%3A9lHAj1l-jXMRGYg9I1iewg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsweet-ladyy.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F186315628554%2Fgood-girl-part-six&m=1) if you feel so inclined to provide); my only request for payment is a genuine expression of your thoughts ◡̈ So if you decide to write a full-out review, or add your reactions // emotions, or even if it’s just a “wow!” or just a keyboard smash, know that any and all feedback is welcomed with unfettered gratitude and with Blake squealing in excitement behind her computer screen. Thank you in advance! ♡ –Blake

( _Seriously_ , I absolutely love each and every bit of feedback I receive on my works. Please please PLEASE tell me what you liked or want to see differently. Please don’t just reblog without commenting! Thank you thank you thank you!!!!)

Also, please refer to this post I made about sending writers compliments:

> [“Telling a writer that you _need_ the next part/chapter isn’t a compliment.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [Sure, it’s very nice to know our work is being read, and that our readers are looking forward to future parts. But a comment like ‘I need part 2 now!!!!’ on its own has absolutely no substance to us as writers. It’s almost as if you’re completely ignoring all the hard work we put into our writing, the sheer number of hours we toiled away at giving you something worth your while to read.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [If you like something you read, **tell us**. Tell us you liked it, tell us what you liked, tell us why you liked it. _This_ is what motivates us to continue writing.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [In fact, I think I am speaking for most—if not all—writers that we would much prefer a simple ‘I loved this!’ to a comment that says ‘I need more!’ Don’t just demand more with no reason. Give us a reason to keep writing. Don’t be greedy consumers of entertainment. There’s too much of that in the world these days. Instead, I implore you all to be thoughtful and thorough with your comments.”](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)

**_✧・ﾟ:*_ **


	8. part eight

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

I rushed home faster than was probably safe and tried to keep my brain from going haywire as I processed my roommate Paige’s words. _It’s about Ben?_ What could she possibly mean…? _What_ about Ben?

As soon as I made it back and opened the door to our flat, I noticed Paige sitting at the couch, bouncing her leg anxiously. 

“Hey,” I greeted her as I set my bag on the floor and kicked my shoes off. “What’s… What’s going on?”

“…You should sit,” Paige grimaced. 

So I did, perching myself on the sofa next to her. I was becoming more and more anxious by the millisecond. When Paige didn’t immediately say anything, I asked again, “What’s going on, Paige?”

“I don’t want to tell you this,” she groaned, “but I feel obligated to. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Wait, what?” I demanded, my heartbeat feeling frantic. “What’s going on, what are you talking about?”

Paige hesitated, but eventually, she sighed again and withdrew her phone from her purse. “Just…promise me that you won’t get angry, okay?”

“Paige, I could never be angry at you,” I reassured her.

“Yeah, but I keep _doing_ this,” she groaned.

“Doing what?”

“Fucking up your relationship with Ben Hardy,” she whispered. I felt stiff with worry at her words. “I’m sorry again for texting him on your phone last weekend, when we were high…”

“Paige,” I began and shook my head, “it’s okay. Apology accepted, remember? We were high. We do stupid shit when we’re high. And we’re best friends. I promise that won’t change.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little in response to my words, but I was still worried. _What was she about to tell me?_ “Well… This is different. This is _worse.”_

“Well, you _gotta_ tell me now,” I said calmly, but I didn’t feel calm at all.

Paige took a deep breath. “Well…” she begins. “You know how I follow all those stupid celebrity fan blogs, right?”

_Fuck_. “Yes…?”

Paige’s expression grew more troubled as she scrolled through her phone. “One of the bloggers I follow found an Insta post, from one of the producers of Ben Hardy’s new movie. Apparently, the producer threw a party with all the cast and crew yesterday at some hotel bar in Belfast.”

“Yeah, I knew about that,” I said. “Ben left early from the party to talk with me on the phone.”

Paige looked physically pained. “Y/N… They found Ben in the background of one of the pictures from the party posted on Instagram,” she explained.

“And?”

“And…” Paige gave me a concerned expression. “Just look.” She slid her phone across the couch so I could look.

Sure enough, it was an Instagram post from one of the movie producers of Ben’s new movie. In the foreground, the producer stood smiling with another man, drinks in hand, celebration in their eyes.

But in the background of the picture…

_Oh no._

Even though the photo was grainy, Ben was clearly in the background. He was sitting at one of the bar couches, wearing a dark-colored suit, and there was a half-finished martini on the table in front of him. But that wasn’t the cause of concern in the photo. Rather, the cause of concern was the scantily-clad girl perched on Ben’s lap.

I couldn’t stop staring at the photo. _Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?_ I squinted, my fingers shaking as I zoomed in to get a better look, and I instantly regretted it. 

It was an unmistakably, inarguably intimate sight. The girl’s hands were wrapped around Ben’s neck, and his hands were resting on the swell of her backside. And her lips were pressed firmly against his cheek, just half an inch from the corner of his mouth.

It was as if my heart actually shut down for a few seconds, and when it restarted, it felt like a sharp, white-hot pain across my entire chest. And yet, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. _No… It can’t be… This is not right…_

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Paige whispered.

“Who is she?” I croaked.

“His makeup artist,” Paige said. 

“And this is from…last night?”

“Yeah.”

Long seconds passed. The pain grew and stole my breath away until little black spots appeared in my vision. I began to register Ben’s expression in the photo…he was looking away from the camera, but there was a grimace on his lips.

Or…was it a satisfied smirk?

Paige reached over and pulled the phone from my hands; my grip was so weak that the phone slid from it without any resistance. “I really didn’t want to tell you,” Paige said, “but I felt like you needed to know. Y/N, I’m pretty sure he was _with_ this girl last night.”

_Last night…_ just hours, maybe _minutes,_ before he called me…

“But he… But we…”

I couldn’t finish the thought. Paige immediately pulled me into a hug and patted my back in consolation. I felt frozen and unsure of how to react—unsure of _anything—_ as a thousand senseless thoughts whorled in my brain.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. The memory of the Instagram photo was seared in my memory like an afterimage in an optical illusion…only this was no illusion. There was no doubt about it, no speculation needed. The implications of the photo were excruciatingly clear. _He was with some other girl last night_. A gorgeous, long-legged, red-lipped, Victoria’s-Secret-model-type girl. _His makeup artist._

Ben lied to me. 

Or so I thought. Hadn’t I been wrong the last time I thought he was lying…about Lily, the girl in the photo strip on his refrigerator? Could there be some kind of mistake again, the way I’d been mistaken last time?

As desperately as I wished there was another explanation to the situation at hand, I couldn’t find any. She was _sitting on his lap._ His hands were on her _ass._ She was _kissing his cheek._ And he was _smirking._

This wasn’t like the Lily situation. Paige was right; this _was_ worse. This was…irrefutable. The photographic evidence was overwhelmingly clear.

And yet, denial raced through my veins like wildfire. There was _no way._ There was no way that Ben would do that… We had _just_ talked on the phone, a few minutes ago, at the cafe. We’d just made plans to spend the _night_ together on Friday. And to think he might have already been with that other woman in the photo, the _makeup artist…_

Ben wouldn’t have done this to me. He couldn’t have done this to _anyone._ That was too low.

But a horrid, wretched thought wormed its way into my mind. Ben never once made it clear that we were exclusive yet. Sure, he’d been making it _seem_ that way… But who was I to assume he was exclusive to me?

Christ. We weren’t even _dating,_ for fuck’s sake!

All those things he’s been saying to me over the phone, through text… They’d been so special to me. But what if they weren’t as special to him as I thought they were? 

What if that was just how he wooed every starry-eyed girl he came across?

_I’m stupid. I’m so, so stupid._

“You are _not_ stupid,” Paige said firmly, and I realized I had whispered my thoughts aloud. She pulled away from her embrace to shoot me a steady gaze. _“He_ is. This is _not_ your fault, Y/N.”

“I know, but…”

“He’s a _fuckboy,”_ Paige said. “He’s just like every other 28-year-old male, movie star or not. They only think with their dicks. Ben’s no different. He’s nothing but a player.”

Paige’s words cut deep, but I couldn’t bring myself to fully believe her. Ben had spent so much time trying to convince me that he was more than just a celebrity. And he seemed like he was so much more than just a _fuckboy._ I wasn’t about to write him off as one until I knew the whole story.

“There’s got to be some kind of mistake,” I said. 

Paige shook her head. “There can’t be.”

“Paige, how could you know that?” I stressed. “Maybe we’re misunderstanding… Maybe he’s—”

“Didn’t you see the photo, Y/N?” Paige said, demanding and sharp. “He’s _groping her ass_. There’s no other way to see it. He’s cheating on you. You can’t cut him any slack on this!”

“He’s not cheating on me,” I replied, matching her tone despite the twist in my stomach. “We aren’t even dating.”

Paige frowned. “What are you talking about? Of course you are!”

“I just met him a _week_ ago!” I exclaimed, and a lump began to manifest in my throat. I swallowed to keep it down. “We aren’t exclusive… We’ve just been…chatting a lot. He’s not my boyfriend or anything. And we never even talked about being exclusive with each other.”

Paige stared at me pitifully. “Y/N, if he’s _seeing other women_ while he’s showing interest in you, that’s a huge red flag.”

“But… But I—”

“He’s _playing_ you,” Paige emphasized, the concern heavy on her face. “This isn’t right. This isn’t fair to you. This guy is _bad news._ And it’s my job as your best friend to tell you that. I can’t sit back and let you get your heart broken _again_ by another guy who can’t keep his cock in his trousers.”

I recoiled at Paige’s words as if she’d just raised a hand to hit me. She was talking about Mark…Mark, who had been cheating on me for a year before I even realized it. Paige didn’t say it outright, but the insinuation of her words was clear; I was stupid enough to fall for Mark, and I was about to be stupid enough to fall for Ben. I was attracted to all the wrong guys.

That stung. It really did. But all the same…maybe Paige was right. Maybe Ben _was_ bad news. Maybe I _did_ keep falling for all the wrong guys.

But her words still unsettled me. I shook my head in dismay, blinking rapidly as I tried to process these thoughts. “Ben isn’t Mark,” I said firmly. 

Paige blinked. “You’re _defending him?_ You can’t do that to yourself!” she exclaimed. “He’s a _fuckboy._ You’re giving him a second chance when you should just be dumping his ass!”

“You can’t just jump on Ben and call him a _fuckboy_ before we even know the whole truth,” I replied, my voice growing more agitated with each word. 

“Oh, what, do you think Ben’s just going to fess up and be _honest_ with you about last night? He’s probably gonna pull every excuse in the book!”

“You don’t know him the way I do,” I sniffed. “And we don’t know if what we’re seeing is even true—”

“You _don’t_ know him!” Paige cried. “You said it yourself! You only met him a _week_ ago!”

“He still deserves the benefit of the doubt,” I stressed. 

“Wake _up,_ Y/N!” Paige thrust her phone out to me, showing the Instagram photo again. “He’s _with another girl._ Don’t try to pretend like you don’t see that. Don’t do this to yourself. Not again. _Don’t make the same mistake twice.”_

I looked away, determined not to look at the photo any more than was necessary. Tears welled in my eyes.

Maybe Paige was right. Maybe I was just setting myself up for heartbreak. And Ben would make it so easy, charming me with that velvet voice and those sage green eyes… 

I didn’t know what to think. I was completely, utterly lost.

The lump was growing in my throat. When one of the tears spilled over onto my cheek, I rapidly wiped it away and stood up from the couch. “I have to go,” I announced, my voice thick. 

“Where?” Paige asked.

“Ben’s,” I said, standing up.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I’m still taking care of his dog for him. I can’t back out of that commitment.” I’d only just arrived home, and I still had a solid hour before I had to be at Ben’s to feed Frankie, but I couldn’t stay here any longer.

“Y/N, wait.” Paige stood up with me, looking concerned. “I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’ll come back,” I told her.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” Paige said and pulled me into a hug. I hugged her back and bit my cheek to keep from crying even more. “We should stay in tonight. We could watch a movie, order a pizza. That sound ok?”

I just nodded numbly and pulled away. I put my shoes back on, gathered my bag, said goodbye to Paige, and headed for the front door.

When I finally got to my car, the wall collapsed. I rested my arms on the steering wheel and sobbed into my arms. It felt as if my heart was being ripped out of my chest.

But through the tears came a moment of clarity. I knew exactly what I needed to do next. 

———

Thursday evening

Ben’s POV

When Ben finally returned to his hotel room late on Thursday evening, he’d barely kicked off his shoes and shoved off his suit jacket before he collapsed on the bed with a great, big groan. The day had been utterly exhausting. Ben loved his job and he loved meeting so many people every day, but today had been particularly stressful. He hadn’t felt this knackered in ages. All he wanted to do now was lie down and relax and not have to talk to anyone else.

Well, maybe there was _one_ person he was itching to talk to.

Y/N. He was absolutely _crazy_ about Y/N. And sure, they’d been mere strangers until last weekend, and he should probably brush it off as loneliness or _horniness_ or even rebounding off his last girlfriend. But it felt more than that…it felt different. _She_ was different. From the first time Ben laid his eyes on her, wearing that holey uni tee shirt and that killer smile of hers, he knew. 

Ben smiled to himself against the pillow, his eyes fluttering. She was so fucking _perfect._ An absolute angel. And she didn’t even know it. It broke Ben’s heart to know how lowly she sometimes thought of herself, but it also amazed him. Ben was used to being around dangerously gorgeous women who _knew_ they were dangerously gorgeous. Y/N was a refreshing change from that…and moreover, she was honest to god even _more_ gorgeous than those other women. 

He reached in his trouser pocket for his phone and checked for texts from Y/N. No _read_ receipt. She hadn’t even looked at the last message he’d sent earlier this evening. He wondered if she might be busy, maybe with her flatmate Paige. Maybe they’d gone out for a night on the town. The thought of Y/N all dressed up, wearing something that hugged those curves of hers so perfectly…

_Fuck._

Ben found himself scrolling up through their texts from the past few days, combing for that photo of her he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. At last, he found it…the selfie of Y/N in that set of pink lingerie. Her face was cropped out of the photo, but her _body…_

Ben felt himself grow harder and harder the longer he stared at Y/N’s body. 

_So fucking beautiful._ She posed in front of the mirror with the slightest tilt of her hip. The outline of her figure and the arch of her back made Ben’s mouth go dry. He could only imagine the way her velvety-looking skin would feel under his hands. He wanted to kiss the soft skin of her tummy…run his hands along the hem of her knickers.

He wanted to love on her, to make her feel so good, to draw out those little gasps from her lips that he’d heard so clearly over the phone. She was a goddess, and he wanted nothing but to worship her the way she deserved.

And to think he’d get the chance to worship her so soon… _tomorrow night._ Ben knew he was going to be beside himself on the airplane home tomorrow with the anticipation. The thought that she’d be waiting in his flat, waiting for _him…_

He couldn’t wait. He wanted to call her tonight, right now. And if he was being quite honest, he was really hoping she wanted a repeat of last night as badly as he did.

Ben tapped the “call” button next to her name and waited for the line to go through. It rang for a long time, and just when he thought it was about to roll over to voicemail, the line _clicked_.

“Hello?” Y/N answered.

“It’s me,” Ben said warmly. “Bad time?”

“No, not at all.” 

“How was your evening?” Ben asked.

“It was good.” She sounded very quiet, almost reserved. Ben wondered if she might not be alone.

“Are you busy with Paige or anything right now?” Ben asked. “I can call back later…”

“No, this is fine,” Y/N said quickly. “I… needed to call you anyway.”

“Oh, okay.” A few seconds of silence passed, so Ben said, “How was Frankie? Is it storming again?”

“On and off, but she’s doing great. I gave her another pill like you instructed. She really doesn’t get fooled by the cheese, does she?”

“Oh, she’s awfully good at spitting out those pills,” Ben laughed. “Sounds like you were able to make her swallow one, though?”

“I figured it out,” Y/N said, chuckling a little. The sound was off, though—not her usual carefree burst of giggles. She sounded hesitant. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“Just good?”

“Yeah, I feel fine.”

Not quite the answer he was hoping for, but he tried a bit harder. “I dunno about you, but I’ve been thinking a lot about tomorrow,” Ben said. “I’m so excited to see you in person again.”

She didn’t say anything, but Ben heard a little sigh through the phone. He frowned and pressed his mouth into a hard line. _What was the matter?_

“Ben,” she said finally.

“Yes?”

“I think we should stop talking to each other.”

Ben’s entire world froze. 

“What?”

“I don’t want to draw this out any longer than it has to be,” Y/N said, and Ben heard her voice tremble. “But I think you and I both know that this isn’t going to work out.”

Ben’s mind started reeling. “I—Wait, Y/N, what do you mean?” he said, trying not to panic.

“I mean, I don’t think I should come over tomorrow night. Or ever. I’ll finish out my drop-in visits for Frankie, of course, I promise. But you should find a different dogsitter in the future. This isn’t going to work out.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ben said in a rush, sitting upright. Now he really _was_ panicking. “Why? I don’t understand… Please, just talk to me for a minute. What did I do?”

“Well…” She took a deep breath, seemingly gathering her thoughts, and Ben thought his chest might sink in. “Here’s the thing. I saw a photo of you on Instagram. With your makeup artist.”

Ben went rigid. _Heidi_.

“What???”

Y/N’s voice was suddenly terse. Matter-of-fact. “She was sitting on your lap, and she was kissing you, and your hands were on her ass.”

Adrenaline began to spread in Ben’s veins. “Photo? What photo??”

“It doesn’t really matter. But someone took a photo. I was…I was hesitant for a while to believe it, even though you and I aren’t technically exclusive.”

_What?_ “There’s been some kind of mistake,” Ben said, his throat dry as a desert.

“Maybe,” Y/N said. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m misunderstanding. But the photo seems pretty incriminating, Ben.”

Ben never felt like he wanted to disintegrate so badly in his life.

“Here’s the thing, though. The photo doesn’t really matter. It’s just writing on the wall anyway,” she went on. “The point is, I’m finally starting to realize I don’t really belong in your world.”

“Y/N, don’t say that.”

“I learned a lot when my last boyfriend and I broke up. I didn’t deserve the heartbreak he put me through. And Ben… I don’t really know what this is, or what _we_ are, but I don’t want to go through that again. So we need to end this. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N,” Ben began, his voice low and sure. “There’s been a mistake. I promise you, there is _nothing_ between me and Heidi.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You have to listen to me,” Ben said frantically. “I promise you, I’m not lying. There’s not—”

_“I don’t care, Ben,”_ Y/N repeated. Ben’s blood ran cold as ice at her tone. “I don’t care if you’re lying or not. I don’t care if you were with her or not, and I don’t care if you really want to be with me or not. None of it really even matters.”

Ben felt choked as he asked, “What? What do you mean?”

“I can’t do this,” Y/N said. “It’s never going to work between us. I’m sorry, Ben.”

_She’s_ apologizing? “Wait, wait, wait, Y/N, slow down,” Ben said. “I want you to be with me. I want to give us a shot. I—listen, Y/N, please. I like you a lot. _A lot._ ”

“I do, too,” she admitted. “But I can’t. I j-just can’t.”

_“Why not?”_

_“Ben,”_ she cried, almost a moan. “You keep telling me that you’re _more than just a celebrity,_ that you’re just like any other guy, but you’re _not. You’re not._ I couldn’t date you like I could date any other guy. There would always be a catch. _Always_. And I’m not… I’m not ready for that.”

Ben stood and cursed into his palm as her words started sinking in. Something inside of him was shattering. “No.”

“You’ll always have movie premieres, and ritzy parties, and paparazzi following your every move. I don’t really know where you were expecting things to go with us, but I know that I don’t belong in that world. Maybe other girls would die for the chance to dress up in millionaire’s dresses and have you tote them along on your arm, but I don’t think that’s me. I don’t think I would last a day being in the public’s eye like that.”

“You don’t have to be!” Ben exclaimed louder than he expected. “You—you wouldn’t have to be in the limelight like that. We could make it work, I promise—”

“What’s the alternative? Hiding me away?” she asked almost sardonically. “We wouldn’t be able to walk through the city park without the internet blowing up. I’ve seen the gossip blogs, Ben. I don’t want to be just another one of those girls.”

 _“You wouldn’t be.”_ How could he make her understand?

“You’re so young, Ben,” she continued, ignoring him. Her voice fell to a weak whisper. “You have your whole career ahead of you. So many things ahead of you. So many people to meet. So many great, big things to do in your life. I would never forgive myself for holding you back.”

_“Holding me back?”_ Ben gaped. “No. _No._ That’s _not_ what you would be doing, Y/N.” Not by any means. Being with someone as brilliant as Y/N…he can only imagine how much his life would be changed for the better if he had the opportunity. She was amazing…and she was completely mistaken.

“I can’t be with you, Ben,” Y/N said again with such finality that any desperate words Ben had to say were sucked dry. “I’ll finish out my drop-in visits with Frankie, I’ll take her to the park tomorrow like I promised, but I’m sorry, I can’t stay over tomorrow night. I don’t think I should see you at all.”

_No._ “Please, Y/N, don’t say that. Let’s just talk through this.”

“I’m sorry,” she rasped again. “I’m so sorry. I hope you understand.”

The line clicked as she ended the call.

And that was it. 

Ben buried his face in his hands. He took one deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth. Then another. Then a third. 

_Fuck._

Driven by anxiety and frustration and panic, Ben unlocked his phone with haste and went to his Instagram. Ignoring the thousands of new likes, comments, and DMs, Ben went to his profile and started scanning through his tagged photos. He had no idea which photo Y/N had been talking about, but he felt desperate to see it himself…to see how bad it was. There were dozens of reposted photos from fan accounts, a number of which were of Roger Taylor himself, but Ben didn’t see anything out of the ordinary… 

It wasn’t until he was deep in his Instagram feed when he came across the post from his producer, a photo taken from Wednesday night at the hotel bar party.

There was Ben in the background…his makeup artist Heidi sitting on his lap, kissing his cheek, his hands on her backside. Just like Y/N said. Ben wanted to punch a wall when he saw his own expression in the picture. It looked as if he were smiling.

But it wasn’t a smile. It was a grimace.

Ben recalled the evening quite well. He’d only just arrived at the hotel bar when Heidi took notice and sauntered to his side. Frankly, he’d been surprised to see her there, and even more surprised when she announced that she’d be working with him again. Ben had met Heidi during his last movie, and she’d always been a lot more interested in him than he was in her. To Ben, she’d always just been his makeup artist. But Heidi’s ears always stopped working when Ben tried to reject her advances. 

Such was the case last night, when she’d decided to plop herself in Ben’s lap, kiss his cheek, and whisper in his ear an invite back to her room with no subtlety whatsoever. He had been quick to push her off and turn her offer down.

But the camera had been quicker.

Ben stared at the Instagram photo. His hands resting on her backside…god, what perfectly horrible timing. His hands had flown up in a knee-jerk reaction when she sat herself down on his lap. If the photo had been taken just one millisecond later, Ben’s hands would have been shoving her away, and his expression would have been much more severe as he’d scolded her for coming onto him yet again.

But that wasn’t what it looked like in the photo. The misleading moment was now immortalized. There was nothing he could do about it now.

And he was losing Y/N because of it.

Heedlessly, Ben tried calling her again. And again. But of course, she didn’t pick up. He texted her: 

**_Please call me back Y/N_ **

**_There’s been a misunderstanding_ **

But she didn’t reply, and Ben had a feeling she wasn’t going to. He had a feeling that the misunderstanding with the photo wasn’t really what was pushing her away from him. It wasn’t the root cause…but it was the impetus.

Wretched tears sprung up from behind his eyes. Ben swiped them away with a fury, pinching the bridge of his nose, willing himself to hold it together. He _hated_ being a celebrity. He hated how the fame and the fortune he’d once sought so ardently has now ruined the one and only thing that made him so sincerely happy in a long, long time.

Ben didn’t have any idea what to do. But he knew he needed to do _something…_ and he couldn’t do it alone. His hands shaky but his mind made up, he called the one person who he knew would be able to help him.

“Hello?” the person answered after three rings.

“Hey, it’s me,” Ben said. 

“Hey, mate! I was just thinking of you. It’s been a while! How’s Belfast? How’s the new movie?”

“It’s going fine.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Well… Do you remember Y/N? The girl I’ve been telling you about?”

“Yeah, of course I remember. You’ve been raving about her non-stop all week…”

“Something happened. Listen, mate, I really need your help.”

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

**A/N:** Okayyy how we holdin up friends? ☹️ I know this one was big sad. Please don’t hate me! I promise things will resolve (maybe not in the way you’re expecting them to, though…) so hang in there!

Some questions to consider…

Do you think Paige was justified in telling Y/N about the Instagram photo of Ben? Was that enough reasonable suspicion against him to elicit what happened? And then for Y/N, the Instagram photo fiasco was sort of a wake-up call to her about deeper issues…do you relate to her concerns about dating a celebrity and all the snags that come with it? Is she founded in her concerns, all things considered (including her cheating ex-boyfriend)? And what about Ben? What should he do? Who do you think he called?

♡

It is thanks to the terrific support of you, my readers, who interact with my fanfics with your honest thoughts and genuine reviews, that I am inspired to continue writing. Without these comments, I lose motivation. I write fanfiction for free (although I accept donations at [https://ko-fi.com/sweetladyy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fsweetladyy&t=OTRhZTEwN2ExNTUzMzE2OGZmODI3N2FlYzU4ZDc5ZDhkYmE2YWEwOCx0VWpac2JNaA%3D%3D&b=t%3A9lHAj1l-jXMRGYg9I1iewg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsweet-ladyy.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F186315628554%2Fgood-girl-part-six&m=1) if you feel so inclined to provide); my only request for payment is a genuine expression of your thoughts ◡̈ So if you decide to write a full-out review, or add your reactions // emotions, or even if it’s just a “wow!” or just a keyboard smash, know that any and all feedback is welcomed with unfettered gratitude and with Blake squealing in excitement behind her computer screen. Thank you in advance! ♡ –Blake

( _Seriously_ , I absolutely love each and every bit of feedback I receive on my works. Please please PLEASE tell me what you liked or want to see differently. Please don’t just read without commenting! Thank you thank you thank you!!!!)

Also, please refer to this post I made about sending writers compliments:

> [“Telling a writer that you _need_ the next part/chapter isn’t a compliment.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [Sure, it’s very nice to know our work is being read, and that our readers are looking forward to future parts. But a comment like ‘I need part 2 now!!!!’ on its own has absolutely no substance to us as writers. It’s almost as if you’re completely ignoring all the hard work we put into our writing, the sheer number of hours we toiled away at giving you something worth your while to read.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [If you like something you read, tell us. Tell us you liked it, tell us what you liked, tell us why you liked it. _This_ is what motivates us to continue writing.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [In fact, I think I am speaking for most—if not all—writers that we would much prefer a simple ‘I loved this!’ to a comment that says ‘I need more!’ Don’t just demand more with no reason. Give us a reason to keep writing. Don’t be greedy consumers of entertainment. There’s too much of that in the world these days. Instead, I implore you all to be thoughtful and thorough with your comments.”](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)

_✧・ﾟ:*_


	9. part nine (finale)

**A/N:** Well, my friends…we’ve made it to the end. I’m so emotional!! Thank you everyone for going on this Good Girl journey with me. I know it’s been a wild ride, but I’m seriously so thankful for all of you. I loved getting to write this series for y'all, but especially for me. This really had a special place in my heart, and the Reader character is truly a reflection of myself and my own insecurities and struggles.

I know it’s the end….but I sincerely hope that we can keep the Good Girl ‘verse alive with asks and prompts/headcanons! ♡ 

I made a Good Girl series [moodboard](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/186294085624/good-girl-ben-hardy-x-dogsitterreader-moodboard)! Go give it a like / reblog ◡̈

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

_Where we left off…_

Ben didn’t have any idea what to do. But he knew he needed to do _something…_ and he couldn’t do it alone. His hands shaky but his mind made up, he called the one person who he knew would be able to help him.

“Hello?” the person answered after three rings.

“Hey, it’s me,” Ben said.

“Hey, mate! I was just thinking of you. It’s been a while! How’s Belfast? How’s the new movie?”

“It’s going fine.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Well… Do you remember Y/N? The girl I’ve been telling you about?”

“Yeah, of course I remember. You’ve been raving about her non-stop all week…”

“Something happened. Listen, mate, I really need your help.”

## ———

Y/N’s POV 

I couldn’t stop crying after hanging up on Ben. It was so, _so_ stupid of me to feel _this_ broken up over a boy I’d only met once. And yet… I found myself collapsed on my bed, clutching a tear-stained pillow and staring at the ceiling while Sufjan Stevens played softly through my Bluetooth speakers. 

It was the exact same reaction I’d had after breaking up with Mark a few weeks ago, only this time, there was no anger mixed in with my feelings. Just…grief. 

I didn’t _want_ to cut things off with Ben. I really, really didn’t. Things had been going so well, there had been so much hope, so much potential… But the Instagram photo fiasco was just a wake-up call from reality. I made a mistake by imagining a world in which Ben and I went together. I made a mistake in failing to realize the implications of dating a guy like him, a guy who was known to the world. 

It wasn’t even a question of whether he liked me or not. He clearly liked me, a lot. And that’s what made it hurt so much more when I told him that I just simply couldn’t be with him.

Saying it out loud to him over the phone felt like stabbing myself in the heart. And even while I spoke the words, I found myself wondering if I was making the wrong decision. Was I really saving myself from future heartbreak? Or was I ruining a good thing before I even gave it a chance?

But at the end of the day, I knew I had to at least _convince_ myself that I made the right decision. Even if I wanted to disintegrate. 

At some point in the evening, there was a gentle knock on my door—Paige. She came bearing a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a small, hesitant smile. The sight of my best friend there at my bedroom door with an apology in her eyes was just the thing I needed.

We shared the ice cream and put some cheesy Netflix show on in the background while we talked. Paige apologized for everything—for her harsh words, for her haughtiness, for getting involved in my relationship issues, for jumping to conclusions about Ben, for being inconsiderate about Mark. I accepted. It meant the world to me that she apologized. And even though we still seemed to disagree about many things, we still agreed on our friendship. All things considered, Paige had always been and will always be my best and most loyal friend. And tonight was no different. 

I told her everything that I said to Ben during our phone call. And then I cried into her shirt until it was stained with tears and my voice was hoarse. She rubbed my back and reassured me that I wasn’t stupid for feeling the way I felt.

I couldn’t sleep that night. Not when the past two nights I’d fallen asleep to the sound of Ben’s voice in my ears. Now, it was as if every time I thought of him, my heart would ache and my mind would jolt awake—a painful reminder that I’d fooled myself and wasted both of our time.

When Friday morning came and I didn’t feel any less shattered, I knew—I just _knew_ —this wasn’t something I was going to recover from in a matter of days, like Mark. How ironic that I could get over the end of my two-year relationship so quickly, while an almost-thing with a man I’d only met once could affect me so profoundly. It just made me feel worse. 

I would give myself the proper time to grieve, and then I would move on. For all I knew, Ben had already moved on from _me_. Besides, who was I to assume I was anything to him but just another girl in the tabloids?

Despite everything, I still had an obligation to take care of Frankie. I had just two more visits left—one this morning, one this evening—and then I’d be free.

My morning commute was numbing, for which I was thankful. When I arrived at Ben’s condo, Frankie was, as usual, head over heels to see me. But she seemed keenly attuned to the fact that something was off with me, and it was as if she was trying as hard as she could to make me feel better. I couldn’t hold back a giggle as she weaseled her little beagle body between my ankles, her tail wagging like crazy. I would miss her a lot, that was for sure. Maybe, after my heartbreak subsided, I would miss Ben a lot, too.

I reported the drop-in visit to Ben through the Fido app in my usual professional manner. He didn’t reply to any of them, but a few minutes after I bid Frankie goodbye for the morning and locked up the flat again, I got a text from him:

**Please call me. I miss you**

I didn’t _._

———

_🐾 Drop-in visit for Frankie started at 6:49 pm_

When the evening rolled around, it was time for my final drop-in visit with Frankie. I had told Ben I would take Frankie to the park for a little, and I wasn’t the type of person to break my word, so I harnessed her up and took off for a stroll around Hyde Park.

The sunset cast the London streets in a lovely golden glow. Frankie was in good spirits; she led the way on our walk, tugging hard on her lead and looking back at me every once and a while as if to say, _THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE_. I wasn’t feeling quite as jolly myself, but I was trying. I hoped that a walk around the west end of the park might bring some sort of clarity about the whole Ben situation. 

And clarity did come. But not in the standard sense.

Almost as soon as we made it through the park’s west gates, my phone buzzed with a new notification from Fido. I checked it—and stopped dead in my tracks upon reading.

🐾 Fido Petsitting — New booking request (drop-in visits) from Gwilym L: 

Cher (♂, Brussels Griffon, 2 years, 5 kg)

One visit 12 July: £40, excluding service fees

Today at 7:14 pm:

**GWILYM:** Hi there, Y/N! You don’t know me (or maybe you do!) so I apologize if this is a bit weird, but I didn’t know a better way to reach out to you.

My entire body seized up in disbelief, and I was only vaguely aware of Frankie staring at me expectantly for abruptly halting. I studied the message, reading it over and over again, trying to wrap my brain around what it said…and who it was from.

Gwilym L…

_Holy shit._

_GWILYM FUCKING LEE?_

I didn’t even have a chance to consider what was going on before I received three more messages from Gwilym L.

**GWILYM:** Suppose I should start by saying that I don’t actually need dogsitting or anything…

**GWILYM:** I actually don’t even have a dog, haha.

**GWILYM:** So sorry for the false alarm! If I actually had a dog, I’d hire you in a heartbeat, though. 😄

_Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck. What the fuck is going on?_

I pinched my arm, bit the inside of my cheek, pulled at my hair. Still awake. In what version of this reality does _yet another British actor_ suddenly somehow know who I am? 

And what could he possibly want from me?

I remembered the framed picture on Ben’s coffee table, then. The one of him and Gwilym Lee with the Golden Globe. The one I mistook for Ben with a boyfriend. It was just Gwilym. _They’re friends._

Frankie whined and tugged at her lead to keep going, nearly choking herself in the process. Dazedly, I let her lead us down the park’s pathways and formulated three different attempts at responses, before I finally decided on one:

**Y/N:** Oh hey! No worries! And yes, I actually do know of you! Can I help you with something?

When Gwilym didn’t reply immediately, I let Frankie wander off the path to sniff a patch of trees, my mind racing with thoughts the whole time. Soon enough, Gwilym finally responded:

**GWILYM:** I was actually hoping to talk to you about Ben.

**GWILYM:** He’s one of my good mates, and he’s been telling me all about you and him.

I felt like I was about to disintegrate into the floorboards. Ben had been talking to _Gwilym Lee…_ about _me._

Oh god, what had they talked about? What was Gwilym going to say? 

_How much does Gwilym Lee know about what happened?_

Feeling my legs threaten to buckle with panic, I sat down on the metal bench by the sidewalk, and Frankie hopped in my lap almost immediately to lick my cheek. I had no idea what to message Gwilym back. But before I chickened out and ghosted him, I typed what I hoped was a neutral response:

**Y/N:** Yes, I am Frankie’s dogsitter while Ben is away in Belfast. 

_Fuck fuck fuck,_ I thought after I sent it. _Too formal._ Gwilym replied a half-minute later:

**GWILYM:** Yes, but Ben told me that things are more than just “business” between you two…

**GWILYM:** I apologize again if this is a bit odd! But I just wanted to let you know that Ben called me last night. He was really quite upset… I’ve honestly never heard him that broken up about anyone before.

My gut twisted while I read Gwilym’s message. What had Ben said? Did Gwilym know about our conversation, about Ben’s makeup artist…about the photo? 

Before I could reply, Gwilym sent a third message:

**GWILYM:** Honestly, I would feel much more comfortable talking in person about this. Have you got a minute to chat on the phone? Again, I know how weird this sounds, but I really think it would be best if we could talk.

I nearly threw my phone across the grass and screamed. Instead, I opted for the latter only, and Frankie perked her ears up in alarm at my outburst. A passing elderly couple gave me a furtive glance, but I didn’t notice them. 

_Gwilym Lee wants to talk on the phone with me._

This was too much. This was just too much. 

“What do I do?” I asked myself aloud. Frankie kept staring at me, an almost commiserating look in her brown eyes. I stared back at her and contemplated the situation. Gwilym wanted to talk, to _me,_ about Ben… But why? So he could convince me to start talking to Ben again? So he could explain what the Instagram photo really meant…or lie about it? I didn’t have any clue what Gwilym was wanting to say, but some part of me deep inside knew that I would be an absolute idiot not to talk on the phone with him.

Gwilym sent another two messages; the first with a phone number, and the second said:

**GWILYM:** This is my phone number—you can call whenever. 

_His phone number._ Staring at the assortment of numbers, I felt honored, yet confused. A certain degree of trust had to be established in order for a celebrity to so willingly give away his personal phone number. But Gwilym didn’t even know me, not the way that I knew Ben. He must have really trusted Ben for trusting me. 

Just one tap on that phone number, and I’d be calling _Gwilym Lee_. But I felt frozen. I didn’t know what to do. Was I ready to listen to what Gwilym might have to say about Ben?

In the end, my curiosity got the best of me—and the lurking knowledge that I would be an _absolute fool_ not to call him—and I found myself tapping the phone number and confirming the call. The phone rang, and I waited, watching passersby and stroking the silky fur of Frankie’s ears to calm myself down. 

Finally, the line _clicked._ “Hello, is this Y/N?” a silky voice answered.

_Gulp._ “Yes… M-Mr. Lee?” I asked hesitantly.

But the voice just chuckled. “Please, call me Gwilym. Thank you so much for calling.”

“Sure thing,” I said and bounced my leg nervously. 

“How are you?” he asked, seemingly genuine. I wasn’t expecting him to be so friendly. I guess wasn’t really expecting anything.

“Good,” I squeaked, because it was the only thing I _could_ say. I was so nervous, suddenly, and I couldn’t shake the feeling like I was going to fuck up in some way…that I would studder or misspeak and Gwilym would think that I was some sort of idiot.

And then, as if to prove my point, my last functioning brain cell seemed to formulate the words, “I loved your role in _Top End Wedding.”_

“You did?”

_Why, oh why did I decide to say that?_ “Yeah,” I said quickly, scrambling to redeem myself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all fangirly on you… It’s just, talking on the phone like this with _you…_ This is just a bit…”

“Strange,” Gwilym answered.

“…strange,” I concurred.

“I get it,” Gwilym said, in a way that made it seem like he _really does get it._ “It’s a bit strange for me, too. I promise I don’t do this often…or ever, really. Sending my phone number out like this. It’s just… It’s just, you really mean a lot to my mate Ben.”

“Right,” I murmured. 

“I know you’re probably super busy with all of your dogsitting clients, so I’ll try to be quick and say what I wanted to say, and I promise I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” Gwilym said, and I almost laughed at the idea that he thought he was being a _nuisance_ to me. 

“It’s okay, I’m not in a rush,” I assured him. “I’m actually here with Ben’s dog right now. We’re just hanging out at Hyde Park. Ben mentioned that she loves the park, and I promised him I’d take her here tonight.”

Gwilym exhaled, and he sounded almost… _in awe._ “That’s so sweet. Ben is so appreciative.”

“Just doing my job.”

“You know… Ben told me he felt really lucky to have found you,” he said, “and more than just, y’know, as his dogsitter. I don’t know you very well, Y/N, but from what I’ve heard from him, you’re an _amazing_ person. Ben’s absolutely bonkers over you.”

My heart flipped. “Really?”

“You should have heard the way he’s been talking about you all week. I couldn’t believe he’d only met you last Friday. He called me a few days ago and just _raved_ about how amazing this new girl was, this _Y/N…_ how kind and funny she was, how excited he was to come home and see her again. I’ve never seen him so excited over a girl. Not even Kat.”

I fell silent. I didn’t know any of that. The idea that Ben had called his mate and _talked about me_ like that… God, I should be feeling giddy with excitement. And maybe I _was_ feeling giddy, deep inside, but the feeling was suppressed by the bitterness of disappointment, of knowing that a relationship with Ben wouldn’t be all glamor and happiness. 

When I didn’t reply for a few seconds, Gwilym added, “He really cares about you, Y/N. He wants to be with you. And I know how it might seem like he doesn’t, but I can assure you, as somebody who knows him very well, he’s a great guy. He would never cheat on anybody.”

“But…but the photo…”

“That Instagram photo was completely misleading,” Gwilym said, his voice growing hard. “Heidi—Ben’s makeup artist—she’s _notorious_ for pulling shit like that. She comes onto everyone. I promise you, Y/N, there is absolutely nothing between Ben and Heidi.”

I released my breath in a long sigh. Hearing the truth from Gwilym took a weight off my shoulders, but it wasn’t the only weight pressing down on me.

“That’s not…” I sighed, collecting my words. “That’s not really the reason why I broke it off with him, though. It’s more than that. It’s just… He’s _famous,_ and I’m not. I don’t think I’m ready…”

I couldn’t go into detail, though, because my throat constricted and threatened to betray the steadiness of my voice. But Gwilym seemed to know exactly what I wanted to say.

“I know how you must feel,” he said. “My fiancée, Dana, felt the same way for a while.”

I blinked. I had no idea Gwilym had a fiancée.

“When we first met, I was just getting started with my career,” Gwilym went on. “I was offered a few minor roles on television shows, a few voice acting roles, but I kept taking more and more auditions, and I was so certain of where I wanted to be one day. I wanted to be famous, successful. But she wasn’t so certain about it. She didn’t want to have to go to any premieres or parties or high-profile events. She didn’t want that kind of attention. I didn’t really understand at the time, but I was a lot younger back then than I am now.”

Dana seemed exactly like me. “What happened?” I asked in a whisper.

“We kept dating,” Gwilym answered, “and now we’re engaged. She lives her life, and I live mine, and we live together, right here in the middle of London. But she chose to stay away from the limelight, and that’s okay with me. She likes to stay under the radar. And to some extent, I do, too, when I’m with her. It’s quite nice, really.”

“But…but what about the photographers? The press?”

Gwilym chuckles a bit. “They’re a ruckus, aren’t they? I won’t lie and say we don’t have to take some…preventative measures sometimes, but for the most part, the press isn’t interested in Dana. Which is really quite a shame, because, in my opinion, she’s the most interesting and gorgeous and wonderful woman in the whole world. But that’s not what she wanted for her life, and I respect that.”

My heart swelled at hearing Gwilym talk about his fiancée as if he would rather be talking about no one else. But before I knew it, he brought the conversation back full-circle.

“I guess the point of this story is that you don’t have to be in the limelight if you don’t want to be,” Gwilym said. “Dana didn’t care for any of that, so she didn’t seek it out. You’ll find one, maybe two pictures of us together on the internet, and that’s only because we recently announced our engagement. But she didn’t have to change much about her life to be with me. My career…it never changed anything between us. It’s still hard sometimes, like when I travel for filming or promo tours, but we’ve just grown stronger over the years. And what I’m trying to say is, it could be the same way for you and Ben, if you wanted.”

My mind was spinning. Gwilym and Dana…they were a real-life example of making a situation like that work. What he was saying…it all sounded like a fairy tale, like it was too good to be true. I found myself wanting what Gwilym and Dana had. 

“I don’t know if Ben wants that, though,” I said.

“Wants what?”

“A low-radar girlfriend,” I sighed. “I mean, it’s not really the fame and the press that scares me. It’s just… It’s just, I’m not famous, I’m just a dogsitter and a uni student. I live an average life. I’ve never had to deal with press or paparazzi or cameras. And I don’t know how to be with someone who’s famous. If people did find out that we were together, I don’t think I’m cut out for that kind of scrutiny, and—”

“Y/N, _Ben likes you,”_ Gwilym cut me off. “More than any other girl he’s ever liked. I don’t think he cares about any of that.”

“…Really?”

“Yes, really!” Gwilym laughs. “Christ, he wasn’t joking when he said you were modest. _He likes you._ It sounds like you really like him, too.”

“I do,” I said, and then again more confidently: “I really, really do.”

“Do what you feel is best, Y/N, but I really think you should call him,” Gwilym said in a knowing voice. “He’s been a mess, frankly. When he called me last night, he sounded miserable. He told me there’d been a huge misunderstanding, and he didn’t know what to do. So…I thought I’d just call you myself. Clear things up. He has no idea that I’m doing this.”

“Ben…he didn’t…?”

“Put me up to this? No, not at all. He’s probably planning to beg you to take him back when he gets back to London, though. I mean it… Ben’s a solid guy, Y/N. And I’m not just saying that because he’s one of my mates. He’s a good man. And he really, _really_ likes you.”

And I considered his words. For the first time in a while, I thought of Ben and felt completely at ease… _hopeful._

“You’re right,” I said. “I…Thank you, Gwilym. Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I hope we can all meet sometime soon. I think you and Dana might have a lot in common,” he said with a smile in his tone.

Gwilym and I ended our phone call, and I sat there on the park bench for a while, soaking in his words. I could feel a haze lifting from my mind, a haze I didn’t even know was there. 

_I have to call Ben._

## ———

Friday night 

11:00 pm

I unlocked Ben’s door and carefully stepped inside his dark flat. Frankie gave a few warning barks, but as soon as she recognized my scent, she quieted down. She probably hadn’t been expecting to see me three times in one day.

I wasn’t expecting to be here, either.

I heaved a sigh and let the duffel bag on my shoulder fall to the ground. As Frankie frantically sniffed all the unfamiliar smells on the bag, I reminded myself again why I had brought the bag in the first place, and my heart jolted. 

It was my overnight bag, and I was here to spend the night at Ben’s.

After my phone call with Gwilym Lee earlier in the evening, something changed for me. His story about his fiancée Dana seemed to strike some cord inside me that resonated for the entire walk back to Ben’s. Somehow, Gwilym had inadvertently taken every misconception I had about dating someone famous and flipped them around. 

I’d had this notion that my life and Ben’s life didn’t fit together, that he was famous and I was not, that there was simply no way to even _consider_ this relationship becoming a real thing. But I was starting to realize that I could be wrong. 

I thought back to the rest of my evening, leading up to now. After I’d finally mustered up the courage to say what I wanted to say, I’d called Ben while sitting in my car, watching the sun set. 

He’d answered after the first ring. There had been no exchange of pleasantries or greetings. 

“Y/N,” he had breathed into the receiver.

“I was wrong,” I had said. “I was so wrong. I’m sorry.”

Ben hadn’t said anything in reply—he had probably been shocked—so I added: “Can we talk about it? In person? At…at your flat tonight, when you get home?”

“Yes,” he’d answered before I even finished.

And that was that. After feeding Frankie, I had rushed home to take a shower and get ready for the evening. I had packed my duffel bag with a change of clothes and undergarments, a ziplock bag of toiletries, my phone charger, and a half-empty bottle of lube—just in case. _Ohgodohgodohgod_. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen tonight after Ben and I talked things through, but I had to be prepared.

And here I was now. I had about an hour to kill before Ben was due home. To distract myself, I kept as busy as I could. I changed into new clothes, realized they looked way too formal, and changed back into my white tee and fitted green sweatpants and hoped I didn’t look too casual. I brushed through my hair, scrubbed my teeth, and double checked that I had applied deodorant. When there was nothing more to do to prepare, I settled on the couch and switched the TV on. Frankie sat on my lap while I queued up _Stranger Things_ and resumed my solitary marathon. I let myself become immersed in the world of Eleven and Mike Wheeler and the Mind Flayer, and I tried very, very hard to distract myself from dwelling on the reason I was here at Ben’s flat.

Because I knew if I dwelled, I would start to overthink. And as soon as I started to overthink, I might have a fucking meltdown. 

One episode later, and it was just after midnight. Ben _still_ wasn’t home. If patience was a virtue, I would be going straight to hell at the rate I was losing it. As if my mind was plugged into a high-voltage outlet, I felt rife with nervous energy. Nothing I did to pass the time seemed to make it pass any quicker, and all attempts to tranquilize my racing thoughts were futile.

I couldn’t wait any longer. I groaned and got to my feet, Frankie right at my heel, and went to peer out the window to the city street below. No taxi yet. I pulled my phone out, but there were no new messages. I wondered if his phone might be dead.

There was a sound at the door—the lock clicking. Frankie’s ears shot up. The door creaked open. _Ben._

Frankie started howl-barking, and I tried my best to restrain her, but I couldn’t grab her in time.

“Shit, Frankie,” I cursed. She darted out the door and started jumping on Ben’s legs.

And there he was, _Ben,_ standing under the door frame, his hair mussed with travel, his lips pulled back in a grin of laughter as he stooped to greet his puppy. “Frankie! Hello,” he cooed. Frankie danced in circles and emitted a loud howl of exuberance. 

Ben was here. And I was here. And we…we were…

Ben pulled the wriggling pup into his arms, and my knees nearly buckled at the sweetness of it. And to think Ben thought he was a bad dog dad. 

He was here. He was finally here. 

I gazed back at him. We said nothing at all for a long while, until finally…

“Hi,” Ben said. 

“Hi,” I replied, breathless as if I had just hiked a mile. 

We said nothing, just watched each other. Ben’s smile grew. My smile grew, too. And then Frankie twisted her neck around and started lapping at Ben’s face, covering him in slobber. We both started laughing.

“It’s good to be home,” he said, wiping the slobber from his mouth. And then he looked at me again, letting his eyes dart over my face, my body. He smiled genuinely. “Really good.”

“Yeah,” I said awkwardly, smiling back at him. I held the door open. “C’mon, let’s come inside.”

Ben followed me inside his flat and let the dog down. He seemed to barely notice as Frankie whimpered and whacked her tail against his legs. His eyes were fixed on me.

“You’re here,” he murmured.

I nodded in response and stepped closer to him without fully realizing what I was doing. “I’m here,” I said. 

“My phone’s dead,” he told me. I stepped closer. “My flight got delayed.”

“I’m here,” I repeated.

“Y/N…” he said, his eyelids fluttering. 

I came so close to him that I could touch his arm. I wanted to touch him. Wanted to feel that he was real. So I did. I brought a hesitant hand up to the skin of his bicep, right to the vein that popped out under the strain of the travel bag in his hand. Yep, he was very real indeed. And I swore I could see his pulse quicken in his throat. Whatever he’d been wanting to say must have been wisped away from his lips, because he fell silent. 

“Hi,” I said again, and it brought another small smile to his face that grew and grew. A sort of magnetic energy seemed to draw the two of us nearer to each other, and I liked it. I flattened my fingers on his bicep and felt the smoothness of his skin against my palm. Ben licked his bottom lip subconsciously and darted his eyes between my hand and my face. 

And then Frankie barked, shattering the silence yet again, as if to say, _hey! I’m still here! Pay attention to me!_

Ben laughed and set his travel bag down next to his luggage. He stooped to pick up the wiggling pup again, and she resumed her tongue attack on his face. 

“Hi Frankie baby, hi girl,” he said in his baby voice between her puppy kisses. “I didn’t forget about you, no, no I didn’t…”

I sighed, mentally shaking out my jitters and trying to compose myself again. “She missed you so much,” I chuckled. 

He set the dog down and looked into my eyes once more with the intensity of the stars. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“You, too,” I said honestly. I wanted to step closer to him again, touch his arm again, resume where we’d left off, but the moment had been broken, and I felt awkward again. 

“I didn’t think I would be able to, honestly.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

I bit my cheek and fluttered my eyes. Of course he didn’t think he’d see me again. Last I talked to him, I’d told him it would be best if we didn’t see each other. I regretted those words. 

“Do you, uh…” I gestured to the couch. “Do you think we could sit?”

Ben nodded quickly. “Yeah, give me a minute?”

I nodded. Ben kicked his shoes off and brought his luggage down the hall, Frankie right on his heels sniffing his ankles. I sat on the couch and twiddled my thumbs while I waited for Ben in the bathroom. When he emerged, he was wearing new clothes—a fresh black t-shirt and a pair of comfy-looking sweats that made my stomach do little flips. 

Ben halted at the edge of the living room. His expression was indecipherable, but he was studying me intently. I couldn’t control the way my breath quivered when I exhaled, and I knew he could hear it, too. But we said nothing for a long time, just watched each other.

I knew he was waiting for me to say something first, and that was what paralyzed me. I didn’t even know where to start. I licked my lips, feeling my heart hammering in my chest.

Ben must have sensed it. “Y/N,” he whispered, soft as the midnight wind, so softly I could barely hear him. 

But it was the push I needed. “I talked to Gwilym,” I said at last, the words spilling from my lips like a stream of water.

Ben just blinked. “Gwilym?” he asked in confusion.

“On the phone,” I explained. “He asked me to call him. He said that you talked to him last night…after you and I talked. He told me about his fiancée, Dana, and how they’ve made things work over the years.”

Ben seemed to be processing my words, but he didn’t say anything. I wanted him to move from where he stood at the edge of the room. I wanted him to sit beside me. I wanted to hug him. 

“I was wrong, Ben,” I said earnestly. “I mean it. I’m sorry for not giving you the benefit of the doubt about the stupid Instagram photo. I believe you. And I’m sorry for saying that you weren’t more than just a celebrity. You’re so much more than the person I thought you were. You’re so much more than I gave you credit for. And you’re so much more than…than I ever thought that I deserved.”

That snapped him out of it. “You deserve the world, Y/N,” Ben said, his voice almost defensive. He stepped toward me. I motioned to the couch beside me, and he sat. I could feel the warmth from his body.

“I never believed it, though,” I went on, softer now that he was closer. “I never thought that I deserved more than what was given to me. And when I was with Mark, he made me feel like I didn’t deserve much at all.” I thought of Mark, of the way he always so effortlessly convinced me that I was in the wrong all the time. I cast the thought away. “After two years of being with someone who took but never gave back, it really kind of messed me up. I didn’t even realize it until we broke up.”

“I’m so sorry he made you feel that way,” Ben whispered.

“He’s out of my life now,” I replied. “But you’re here.”

Ben nodded, but I needed to make him understand.

“My point is, it was really…jarring, to go from someone like _that,_ to someone like _you,”_ I explained. “Someone who didn’t hesitate to tell me they liked me. Someone who actually made an effort to be with me. And that’s what you did, right from the beginning. I didn’t really know how to process that. And I still sometimes feel like I don’t deserve it, but… Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“I should have realized,” Ben said.

“What do you mean?”

“I should have realized you were still trying to recover from your breakup.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t your responsibility. You didn’t know. And I didn’t realize it either!” I laughed a little. “But…you helped me. You helped me understand my worth. And I’m still trying to heal, but…”

I gazed up at Ben, looking right into his eyes. He looked right back. “I want you, Ben. I want to make this work.” 

Ben’s whole expression changed, like I’d flipped a light switch on. He brought a hand to my face, caressing my cheek as if he couldn’t believe I was real. I leaned into his touch.

“You have me,” he said. 

And then Ben was kissing me. Every neuron in my brain seemed to fire at once. His lips fit against mine perfectly, like puzzle pieces locking into place. His hand on my cheek moved to tangle in my hair as he deepened the kiss, and right when I was certain I was going to pass out from the rush of emotions in my chest, he drew away and pulled me close for a crushing hug. I wrapped my arms around his torso and hugged him back. In that moment, I never felt so strongly that I was right where I belonged, there in his arms.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, pulling back to examine my face. He brushed away tears I didn’t know were there. I had started crying. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully, and then I started laughing. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.” 

I sniffed loudly and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. This was not the reaction I was expecting from myself. And then I laughed again, probably sounding maniacal. “I’m sorry. I’m just so emotional.”

“It’s okay,” Ben said, laughing a little with me. He kissed my forehead, and I wanted to cry again. “Are they…good emotions?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. Ben entwined his fingers with mine and looked at me like I was the best thing he’d ever seen. So I kissed him first this time, reveling in the newness of it all…the taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the calloused roughness of his hands against mine, the small vibrations that came from his throat when our tongues met. There was so much about Ben to learn. So much to explore. 

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow I found myself straddling Ben’s lap, both of us desperate to be close to one another. He felt so different than Mark ever felt…the touch of his skin against mine, the scent of his hair and his cologne, the way we seemed to be so in sync with each other. It was all so different. I surprised myself by the lack of hesitation in my actions as I let my hands wander down his body and slipped them under the hem of his shirt.

But it was Ben who hesitated. He studied the expression on my face before his eyes roamed down to my heaving chest, my pelvis pressed against his, my legs sprawled out on either side of him. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, and I realized he’d only stopped so he could say that.

I surprised myself again when I replied with a simple, “Thank you.” Nothing more. Ben smiled like the sun.

“You were all I could think about this whole week,” Ben said, running his hands up and down my arms. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“Believe it,” I breathed before leaning down to press my lips to his once more. And something changed as we kissed again. Whatever tether of restraint had been keeping the two of us apart suddenly snapped. Ben’s hands traveled up my arms and down my back, resting just at the top of my ass, and he pulled my body close. We both let out a collective groan at the friction between our groins.

_“Fuck,”_ he cursed, just as I whispered against his lips, “Ben, I want you.” I pulled back and studied the newfound feral glint in his eyes, knowing full well that I must look just as desperate. 

“You do?” he asked.

“God, yes.”

Ben’s lips smashed against mine, no longer gentle. He pulled me flush against him, so tight I could barely breathe, and then he flipped us over so I was sprawled on the couch with my head on the armrest and he was straddling me. I suddenly felt burning up as if I caught a fever as he smirked down at me. His hands raked down my torso, toying with the bottom of my shirt. And then he was kissing my neck as his hands felt the soft skin of my stomach, inching up.

“Can I touch you here?” Ben murmured against my neck as he felt the lining of my bralette. 

“Please,” I gasped, not caring how desperate I sounded. Ben’s hand slipped under the lacy fabric, and he made a gorgeous sound, a cross between a moan and a curse. All the while, his mouth moved along my neck, searching for my sweet spot—and then he found it, the hollow of my neck between my collarbones. With a moan I couldn’t hold back, I arched my back at the sensation of his tongue against me, his teeth brushing over my skin, his warm hands toying with my breast under my shirt—

And something else. A wet tongue against my big toe.

I recoiled and cringed. “Frankie, _no,”_ I yelled.

Ben pulled away in confusion and followed my glare to the other end of the couch. Frankie had her front paws perched on the opposite armrest, her dopey tongue lolling out as if she thought it was the perfect time to play. 

Ben and I looked back at each other and laughed. I hid my face in embarrassment as Ben crawled off of me and led Frankie away.

“We need something to distract you for a while, Franks,” he said to her in his baby voice. “Let’s go get you a bone to chew on.”

I heard Ben rummaging through the basket of Frankie’s toys in the corner. “Shit, I can’t find her chew toy,” he said.

“You could try a Kong with peanut butter,” I suggested.

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Ben remarked. He found her Kong toy and took it into the kitchen to fill it with peanut butter. I felt my cheeks grew hot at the memory that I’d used the exact same tactic to distract Frankie when I’d used Ben’s showerhead. I wondered if or when I’d ever tell him about that.

When Ben returned, he held a hand out for me. “The dog is sufficiently distracted,” he said with a chuckle. “Do you wanna…relocate?”

I smiled and took his hand to stand up. Ben guided me by the hand down the hallway and into his bedroom. I shut the door behind me. He passed by the main light switch, opting instead to turn on the small lamp beside his bed. I’d only been in here a couple of times, but I noticed now just how well his room complemented him. He looked like he belonged in this space perfectly. And with the way he drew me in closer by the arm, he made me feel like I belonged here, too. 

Ben kissed me sweetly, softly, yet with an insistence that was anything but devoid of passion. I let myself get lost in the feeling. His lips were so soft and warm, and I knew I’d never get tired of the way my heart raced. 

I could tell he was trying to savor the moment, but I was growing antsy. I let my motions grow wilder, my tongue running along his bottom lip, my hands pulling his blonde locks, my body pressed against his. Ben responded fervently, mirroring my passion as he pulled me close by the small of my back. My hip brushed against the edge of the bed, and I pulled the both of us down so we were sitting. I wanted to straddle him again, but Ben had other ideas.

“Lie back,” he instructed, his voice slightly hoarse. “Want you to get comfy.”

So I did, crawling up the bed and resting against Ben’s pillow. The microfiber blanket smelled so good and I wanted to bury my face in it. I realized then that this was, presumably, where I’d be sleeping tonight. Where _both_ of us would be sleeping. 

Ben smiled warmly and leaned down to give me another sweet kiss. And then he repositioned himself so he was crouching over my legs. I bit my lip when he kissed my tummy over my shirt before pulling it up and kissing both sides of my belly button. Then he leaned up and kissed both my collarbones, then both my cheeks.

“I want to kiss every inch of your body,” he told me.

“Hmm, Ben,” I giggled. But he looked dead serious.

“I mean it. Every inch. I want to show you how much I adore you.” He gave me a gentle peck on the lips. “Will you let me?”

How could I say no to that? I nodded, watching him with wide eyes. Ben leaned down and braced himself on his elbows around my head. “Just sit back and relax, baby.”

He kissed my left temple, moving across my forehead to my right temple, and then to the bridge of my nose, and then the tip. He kissed both of my eyelids and both corners of my mouth. I sighed contentedly, thinking to myself, _he really meant it when he said every inch, huh?_

Ben worked his way slowly down my body. When he got to my collarbones, I squirmed in annoyance at my shirt, which was still on. Ben realized what I wanted, and he helped me pull the shirt off. He smiled and bit his lip at the sight of my bralette. 

“Is this the same one you sent me a picture of?” Ben asked, tracing a line down the strap. I giggled and nodded. “And the panties?” he asked, his voice low.

“See for yourself.”

Ben licked his lips, clearly trying to resist. “In a minute. I’m taking my time with you.” He continued to trace the edges of my bralette before bringing his hands to the swell of my breasts. “You look so fucking good in this, Y/N.”

I smiled shyly and looked away. He took my chin and tilted my face back toward him before kissing my lips again. And then he was helping me sit up, and he was lifting my bralette off over my head. The cool air of his room fanned out over my chest, and I instinctively crossed my arms.

Ben watched with a little frown. “Hey,” he said reassuringly, bringing his hands to my wrists. He didn’t pry them open, just rested his hands there and kissed my forehead over and over. “It’s okay.”

My pulse thundering, I uncrossed my arms. Ben pulled back and let his eyes travel down my body. “Holy fuck,” he gaped.

I made a noise and crossed my arms over my chest again.

“Wait, wait,” Ben said, his eyes concerned. “What’s the matter? If you want to stop, we can stop whenever, I promise—”

“I don’t want to stop,” I groaned. “It’s just… I have weird boobs.”

Ben just gawked at me. “You do not have weird boobs,” he said, emphasizing each word.

“I dunno.” I had always been self-conscious about my chest, and frankly, Mark hadn’t done much to ease that anxiety.

“Y/N,” Ben said slowly. “You’re literally the most gorgeous, amazing woman I’ve ever met. And I think your boobs are fantastic.” 

I fluttered my eyelashes at him, slowly bringing my arms down. “Really?”

“Really.” Ben’s eyes followed the movement of my arms. “I mean it.”

I let my hands rest by my sides and willed them to stay there. Ben drank in the sight of my bare chest. He brought a hand up to cup my breast, to squeeze it gently, to run his thumb over my nipple. And then he replaced his thumb with his mouth, and I felt myself start to relax against the mattress again. 

Ben seemed to be worshipping my breasts, touching and squeezing and kissing them in all the right ways, until I was moaning softly against the pillow. And then he told me to flip over. I settled onto my stomach, revealing my bare back to Ben, and he took his time kissing the nape of my neck and massaging my shoulders. There was really no better way to turn me into a puddle than to give me a back massage.

I felt my eyes start to droop after a while. “Uh, Ben?” I said. “That feels really good, but unless you want me to doze off before we do anything fun, you better stop.”

Ben’s hands ceased their magic on my muscles. “You trying to tell me that I’m putting you to sleep?” he asked, a hint of playful roguishness in his voice.

“Mmm.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

His hands, which had been doing the work of God on the knots of my back, suddenly turned evil as he prodded my ribs. I shrieked and jolted, twisting myself onto my back and trying to evade his hands, but he was too strong. I squirmed and laughed uncontrollably as he tickled my stomach. 

“You’re—you’re _evil,”_ I gasped. He tried to pin my arms down, but I wriggled from his grasp and jabbed him in the ribs with my thumbs. Ben hollered and I took advantage of his moment of weakness to push him over and roll on top of him. I tickled his sides again, and he giggled, trying to buck me off of him, but it was clear that he wasn’t putting in much effort. Probably due to the fact that I was straddling him again, shirtless. 

I brought my hands to Ben’s arms and pinned them above his head. We were both panting now, completely breathless, but the tickle fight seemed to have reignited a flame in my core. I leaned forward to whisper playfully in Ben’s ear, “Now what?”

He tried to move his hands, but I kept them pinned down against the mattress. “Now you better kiss me,” Ben said, making kissy lips up at me.

I smirked. “Oh? Hmm, I think I could do that.”

I kissed Ben deeply, sensually, almost messily. He made a low sound in the back of his throat as I moved my hips experimentally against him. I could feel how hard he’d gotten since the last time I straddled him on the couch, and the idea that _I’d gotten him hard_ made me feel more flustered than ever. 

“Mmm, fuck,” he groaned. I grazed my teeth over his throat and readjusted my hips on top of him. Suddenly, I could feel his whole length perfectly beneath me. I gasped and swiveled my hips against him in slow, deep movements. Ben’s eyes became hooded with lust as he watched me grind against him. I watched him, too, watched the way his tongue darted out to wet his swollen lips, watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

Ben’s hands came to my hips, and I realized I’d forgotten to keep his arms pinned down. Not that I cared at his point. I straightened and braced my hands on his knees, leaning back slightly as I continued to grind on him. His hands guided the bucking of my hips. 

“Mmm, does that feel good, love?” Ben rasped, and I just grunted in response. It _did_ feel good, better than I anticipated. My mouth fell open and my hips started moving on autopilot. Ben reached up to play with my breasts again, and when he pinched my nipples, I tilted my head back and arched my back.

My breathing became more and more ragged and the fire in my core grew hotter. I kept going, letting my breaths turn into moans. I blinked dazedly and gazed down at Ben. He looked _so good_ beneath me like this. He was clearly enjoying himself too, but he was watching me closely.

“Ben,” I said in a whine. 

He seemed to catch on. “That’s right, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his voice throaty. “Get yourself off on my cock.”

The first truly naughty thing he’s said all evening. It was _so_ much better here in person than on the phone. I bit my lip. Some faraway part of my mind that wasn’t hazy with desire wondered if I was seriously getting close to an orgasm _grinding on Ben_ in my sweatpants. 

_Yeah,_ I realized after a few moments later. _I really am close._

I couldn’t control my hips if I tried. This wasn’t what I was expecting to happen at all, to kick things off grinding on Ben like this. But I wasn’t about to stop. And based on the enthusiastic way Ben was responding beneath me, I figured he wasn’t going to stop it, either. If I were at all worried I would hurt him, the look of desire on his face was enough reassurance. 

I leaned forward, bracing myself against the bedframe, and Ben wrapped his arms around my torso. The new angle felt _so good,_ his dick pressed right against my clit. I let out a string of moans, and Ben brought his lips to my ear.

“So fucking sexy,” he purred. His mouth was hot against the shell of my ear. My vision started tunneling. “Grinding your pretty little pussy on my cock like this. So fucking warm. Mmm. Such a good girl. I can only imagine how _wet_ you are beneath your panties.”

“Oh, God,” I moaned. “Ben.”

“What’s that, love? Are you getting close for me?” Ben coaxed. He let his fingernails scratch lightly down my back. “Are you gonna cum inside your pants, all over my cock?”

That was it. My orgasm washed over me like warm water, and I keened as I rode it out. Ben whispered sweet words in my ear, words I could barely decipher as I came to my senses again. And then I collapsed forward onto him.

“Mmm, fuck,” Ben said. He brushed the hair out of my face and waited patiently for me to recover. “So fucking good.”

“Oh my god,” I breathed, trying to slow my heart rate. I couldn’t believe how fast Ben had made me cum. Just by grinding on his _pelvis._ “Ben. Holy _fuck.”_

“I know,” he chuckled and kissed my temple. “That was so fucking hot.”

“I didn’t…” I tried to get out, but another wave of pleasure in the form of an aftershock washed over me. Ben chuckled again and squeezed me tight. “I didn’t think I could do that?”

“Mmm, really?”

I shook my head. I felt so fucking wet, uncomfortably so. I wanted…god, I wanted _so_ many things at the moment. But I couldn’t help but think about how badly I wanted to do that again, this time with no clothes between us.

“I love hearing you moan,” Ben said. “Love watching you fall apart.”

If I were more coherent, I would have felt self-conscious about Ben watching me cum. But I couldn’t think about much at all at the moment.

“I want you, Ben,” I murmured.

“You have me,” he repeated.

“No, I mean _I want you,”_ I said again. “Right now.”

Something like excitement flashed in Ben’s eyes, but he just smirked and shook his head. “I’m not done loving on you yet, princess.”

“Huh?” 

Ben suddenly rolled me over on my back. “I told you I was going to kiss every inch of your body, remember?” Ben said as he toyed with the hem of my pants. “I didn’t get very far yet. There’s still a lot of skin I gotta cover.” He smirked.

I gulped at the implication of his words. _Holy fuck._ “But Ben…” I could only imagine how riled up and frustrated he must be feeling after I’d been _grinding on his dick_ for the past ten minutes.

But he ignored me, moving to kiss my belly. “I can’t get enough of you, Y/N,” he said. “God. You’re so perfect. I want to kiss you _everywhere._ ”

I watched him desperately. As much as I wanted _that,_ I truly didn’t know if I’d be able to cum again. “Ben…”

He glanced back up at me. “Will you let me?”

My words died on my tongue. I nodded.

“Need to hear you say yes or no, love,” he murmured.

“Yes,” I said weakly.

“Good girl.” Ben smiled against the skin of my stomach. He brought his fingers to the drawstring of my sweatpants and untied the knot. “‘M gonna take these off, is that alright, love?”

I told him yes. Excruciatingly slow, Ben pulled off my pants, revealing the lacy panties that matched my bralette. “Fuck,” he moaned, clearly recognizing them. I smiled dazedly and twisted my hips for him. I was so fucking _wet._

Ben took his dear sweet time kissing up my right leg first, starting with gentle little pecks to my toes and the arches of my feet, all the way up past my knee. I gasped as he neared the upper part of my inner thigh…and then groaned in frustration when he switched legs and gave my left leg the same treatment. This man truly had endless patience, it seemed. Luckily, I could use the time to recover from my last orgasm. 

But by the time Ben was finished kissing his way up both of my legs to his liking, I was a squirming, impatient mess. He chuckled lowly at my eagerness but went no less slowly kissing the hem of my panties. 

“Ben,” I growled after a few minutes. 

“Mmm?” he hummed.

“I’m going crazy.”

He laughed in satisfaction. “Then I’m doing my job right.”

I gasped suddenly. He planted a wet kiss to the very top of my right thigh, then my left…and I could feel the heat of his mouth, _so close_ to where I needed it.

“Ben,” I said again, the desperation strong in my voice this time. “Ben, I need you.”

“I know, baby.” Ben pulled down my underwear.

_Holy fuck._

I cried out, arching my back and burying my hands in his messy hair. _Finally_. Ben’s tongue delved into my pussy, finally tasting the wetness there that resulted from getting myself off on his lap. I was dripping, I _knew_ it, but I didn’t even care enough to be embarrassed, that’s how turned on I was.

Ben moaned loudly, and I swore I could feel the sensation of his low voice as his mouth vibrated against me. He lapped his way up to my swollen clit and wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently. The assault of warmth took me by surprise; my back jolted as if I’d been electrocuted.

_“Ben,”_ I cried out. I was _so_ sensitive, and just when I was about to push him away from the overstimulation, he moved the tip of his tongue in the tiniest of movements against my clit, and I shrieked and writhed against him. 

Ben broke away, giving me a much-needed break. “You taste _so fucking good._ ” He kissed my folds again as if to prove his point. 

“Ben, I…” I licked my dry lips, trying to formulate my words. “I need… I need…”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he murmured. I glanced down at him, feeling my whole body flush again. 

“I need your fingers,” I whispered.

“Mmm, you want my fingers, is that it?” Ben smirked and kissed my knees. “You wanna be stretched out, filled up, is that it, baby?”

I nodded desperately. Ben pried my legs even wider, spreading me open for him. I watched in awe as he sucked on his middle finger, getting it wet. He pressed his finger right at my entrance and quirked an eyebrow at me.

“Ben,” I said.

“What do you say?”

“Please,” I begged.

“That’s my good girl.” Ben pressed his finger inside me. 

I saw stars at the sensation. And then Ben curled his finger upward toward my belly and I shrieked. _Holy fucking shit._ Ben’s finger was longer, thicker, and unbelievably more dexterous than I ever thought possible. And at the rate which he kept curling it inside me like that…

Only a few minutes later and I truly couldn’t say anything coherent. Another wave of pleasure was coming fast and sure, this one like a whirl of flames and heat. Ben withdrew his finger, only to add a second that felt _unreal._ My moans grew breathy and ragged and labored. Ben was watching me unravel before him, biting his lip, and the second I locked eyes with him, it was as if the pleasure grew threefold. 

“That’s right, love, I wanna hear you,” he encouraged.

“Ben, fuck, _Ben,”_ I cried and bucked my hips. Ben chose that moment to wrap his lips around my clit again. His tongue circled hard and fast again as he curling his digits up into me over and over.

But what finally pushed me over the edge was the sudden pressure of Ben’s other hand against my lower navel, pressing down firmly, and with each twitch of the fingers inside of me, I could suddenly _feel_ every bit of friction against my G spot. 

I came completely undone, the tendrils of fire overtaking my whole body. I arched my back and cried out a broken, completely fucked out scream of pleasure. I clenched around Ben’s fingers, unable to hold back my ragged moans, unable to keep my arms and legs from spasming.

It took me several minutes to come down from my high. Aftershocks shook my body like electrocutions. I slumped back against Ben’s mattress and moaned, over and over; I couldn’t speak if I tried. Meanwhile, Ben kissed up and down my legs again, waiting for me to recover.

“You doin’ alright?” Ben asked softly. I gave him a weak thumbs-up, and he laughed. 

“Ben,” I croaked and peered down at him. He was resting his cheek against my inner thigh, his lips pink and swollen. “I want you to take me.”

My words must have surprised him, because his eyes went wide. “You aren’t exhausted?”

“No,” I rasped. “I want you inside me.”

Ben wasted no time crawling up to my level and kissing my face, deeply, slowly. I loved the new taste on his lips. But I pushed him off, desperate for more. “Ben,” I said his name again. “Fuck me. Please.”

He wasn’t about to say no to that. He kissed me once more before crawling off the bed and rummaging through his dresser drawers. 

“Wrong one,” I told him. “Bottom left.”

Ben gave me a humorous look. “How would you know?”

“You asked me to go through your dresser drawers, remember?” I said, laughing. Ben finally found the box of condoms and held them out triumphantly. I beckoned him over with a seductive smile and a quirk of my finger.

“God,” I said as he approached the bed. “You are wearing far too many clothes.”

“Mmm.” He kissed me once. “You should change that.”

I wasn’t in the mood for playing games, so I made haste in peeling his t-shirt off and untying his pants while he fumbled with a condom in the wrapper. God, he looked _so fucking good._ I thought about the way he might taste if I gave him head, but truth be told, I was much too excited to feel him inside of me right now.

Ben settled at the head of the mattress, sitting upright with his head against the headrest. Things were moving very, very quickly, then, and he helped as I shimmied off his pants and underwear— _briefs,_ good god, he looked so sexy—and then I gasped. _He’s so…_

“What?” Ben asked, a little worried.

“You’re _huge,”_ I said. Ben’s dick was so much thicker than anyone I’d ever been with before. _Definitely_ bigger than Mark. And while it was the fucking sexiest thing I’d ever seen, I found myself worrying if he would even fit. 

“We’ll go slow,” Ben reassured me.

“Can I…” I started. 

“What is it?”

“Can I be on top? To start out?” I asked.

Ben looked like I had just told him he’d won the lottery. “Holy shit, can you. _Fuck,_ Y/N. Of course.”

Ben took out the condom and rolled it on. I sat there, biting my lip, before an idea came to me. “Wait there,” I said, crawling off the bed and throwing Ben’s shirt on.

“Wait, why are you dressing?” Ben asked, laughing.

“I don’t want Frankie to see me naked,” I replied, which set him off laughing again. I stepped out of the room and into the living room, where I’d left my overnight bag. Frankie was still going to town on her peanut butter-filled Kong, and she paid me no heed as I rummaged through my stuff and pulled out a bottle of lube. 

I returned to the room and held it out for him. Ben nodded understandingly. “You came prepared,” he teased me.

“Always am,” I said. I pulled off Ben’s shirt, feeling empowered at the way his whole face lit up at the sight of me naked again. I got back on the bed and crawled over to him. Ben helped me with the bottle of lube, spreading a generous amount on his cock while I spread a dollop of it over my pussy. 

“Ready?” Ben asked. I smiled and gulped back whatever fears I still harbored over his size. “Wait. Come here.” Ben pulled my head down to his face and kissed me so passionately I could feel it in my toes. When I broke away, I straddled him and used his hands to brace myself as I slowly, slowly lowered myself down…

The head of Ben’s cock pressed inside of me.

It stung, like my first time, only I was expecting it. I inhaled sharply and paused. Ben stroked the back of my neck encouragingly and whispered, “It’s okay.” 

“Hold on.” It was only the head and it already felt like so _much._ I took a deep breath and sunk down another inch…letting out a pained groan.

“Slow down, hey, it’s okay,” Ben said, his voice strained as he rubbed my arms. “Give yourself some time to adjust.”

I nodded and leaned into him, my breath shaky. Ben brushed my hair out of the way and smiled up at me like I was the sun. 

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I said back. 

“You’re fucking perfect.”

“You’re one to speak,” I said, smiling back. “Now’s probably a good time to tell you what I did on Thursday.”

“What did you do?”

“I used your showerhead,” I said, giggling a little.

Ben’s mouth fell open. “You _did???”_ he gaped. “You didn’t tell me!”

I laughed then, feeling my body relax around him. Ben’s eyelids fluttered and he moaned a little.

“What?” I asked.

Ben smiled dazedly. “I could feel that,” he said. “Your laugh.”

And of course, that made me laugh even more, and Ben bit his lip. “ _Fuck.”_

I decided to take him a little further. The pain was gone, now, but I went slowly, taking him inch by inch…until I was sitting all the way on his pelvis, our hips pressed flush against each other. Ben followed my gaze and looked down between us, letting out another curse at the notion that he was _completely inside_ of me.

I moved slowly, just barely grinding myself on his cock, and smiled as I watched Ben’s mouth fall open. “Holy fuck, Y/N, that’s _so good,”_ he gasped.

“You’re so deep,” I said, reveling in the way I could feel him so well inside me. I ground my hips a little faster, not even caring about the way my breasts bounced in his face. Ben brought his hands up to them, caressing my body, and then down to my hips, encouraging me to move faster.

And this was quite possibly the best feeling in the world.

He was hitting some spot deep inside me I haven’t felt in a long time, and I moaned, resting even more against his pelvis, willing him even deeper. Ben’s skin was taking on a lovely flushed pink color, and I bent down to kiss his neck, reveling in the salty-sweet taste of him. 

Eventually, we wanted more. Faster. Deeper. The realization hit like a train, an unspoken agreement that we needed _more,_ that we neededto change things up. Ben pulled out and rolled us over so he was on top. He kissed me slowly, sensually, and when he pulled my legs up to my chest and pushed himself inside of me again, the new position was unlike any other feeling.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Yes.”

Ben smiled down at me, a cocky gesture that made me weak. He gave a couple of experimental thrusts, and I moaned in pleasure. And then he was moving, _really moving,_ thrusting in and out of me increasingly faster and faster as if his life depended on it.

“Yeah, Y/N, _fuck yeah,”_ Ben growled, gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises. I arched into him and moaned, over and over again, wondering for the first time all night if he had neighbors who could hear, and realizing I really didn’t care.

“Fu-u-uck, Ben,” I cried, my voice cutting out with each thrust. He felt _so fucking good._

Ben slowed down, just long enough to kiss me again, and then he was fucking me again, his thrusts growing faster, his eyes darkening with a feral, primal need. I pulled him close, scratching up his back as his hips moved, his skin slapping against mine with the most obscene wet sounds. 

My third orgasm took me by complete surprise. One minute I was moaning right along with Ben, encouraging him, enjoying myself, and the next I was a complete writhing sobbing mess, my legs quivering.

Ben realized what was happening and kicked things up a notch, riding it out with me. “That’s right, love, come all over my cock. Mmmm, fuck.”

I sobbed, crumpled against the mattress, and Ben stopped.

“Fuck. Y/N, did I hurt you?”

I realized tears were streaming down my face—again, without me even realizing it. “No, _god_ no, keep going,” I mewled, barely recognizing my croak of a voice by how fucked out I sounded. “I want you to cum inside me.”

And that was all the encouragement Ben needed because he grabbed my knees and fucked me until he was a moaning, shuddering mess just like me. He grasped my hips like his life depended on it and bucked into me one last time, emptying himself into the condom. 

Our moans died down to heavy, panting breaths. I pulled Ben down to me by the back of his head and hugged him tight against my chest, not caring at the way our sweaty skin stuck to each other.

“Holy. Fuck.” Ben said between breaths.

“I know,” I said, giggling. 

“That was so… _so_ much better than the phone sex.”

I recoiled. “What do you mean?” I asked defensively. “Was the phone sex _bad?”_

Ben’s eyes widened. “No, no no no, that’s not what I mean, I’m—I’m sorry, I’m—I really can’t think straight right now, I’m not making any sense.”

I hit him gently on the arm, but I was smiling. “I know,” I said. “I know what you meant.”

“The phone sex? That was just… Just a little _taste_ of what this was like,” Ben said, his voice low and throaty. “And _this?_ Hands down…best sex of my life.”

“You’re absolutely joking,” I said.

“I’m dead serious.”

“It took me a solid ten minutes to even take you balls deep,” I whined.

Ben pulled back and smiled at me, brushing my sweaty hair out of my eyes. “That’s what made it amazing. We took it slow. We listened to each other.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling a bit. “But it was so _vanilla.”_

Ben quirked an eyebrow. “What are you saying, then?” he murmured, smiling slyly. “Are you saying we should mix it up a little next time, then?” 

My tummy quirked at the prospect of _next time._ “We’ll…play it by ear.”

Ben chuckled and pulled me in for a kiss again. “So there’ll be a next time?”

His voice was still light and playful, but I sensed the slightest bit of worry. “Yes.” I kissed both of his eyelids and smiled down at him. “And a time after that. And a time after that. And after that.”

Ben grinned back. “And after that?”

“Yes, and after that.”

“Hey, Y/N?”

“What?”

“Did you know that I like you? Like, really really like you?”

“No, I don’t think I did know that.”

“Well, I do. I like you. And I’ll tell you that until the day I die.”

There was a noise at the bedroom door—a scratch, followed by a high pitched, pitiful whine. Ben and I stared at each other, and then we burst into laughter. 

“Hold on, Frankie, we’re almost done.”

———

Sometime later that night, I stirred awake to a peculiar sound. Ben’s room was dark—illuminated by only a single beam of summer moonlight through his bedroom window—and silent, save for the periodic deep rumble of snores from beside me.

I groaned, rolling over in the fresh sheets of Ben’s bed we had changed after fooling around another two (and a half) times. The sound coming from beside me was like a goddamn locomotive. 

_I swear to god,_ I thought, _just my luck that my new relationship would be with yet **another** insufferable snorer. _Mark was bad enough, but _this?_ It sounded like a chainsaw mixed with a rabid pig. It’s a good thing I liked Ben a lot, because otherwise, by the sheer decibels of his snoring alone, this relationship was _not_ going to work out…

“Ben,” I moaned, still half asleep. _“Ben.”_

The snoring stopped. 

“Thank you,” I murmured, reaching out in the darkness to find his hand…

Instead, finding a furry paw under the blanket.

“What the—”

I turned on the lamp beside Ben’s bed and pulled back the covers. There, curled in Ben’s arm, was Frankie. She peered up at me with sleepy eyes, and her tail twitched. Ben was fast asleep.

I realized then that I’d misjudged the culprit of the incessant snoring.

“Off,” I whispered to Frankie sternly. She whined a little in hesitation but eventually crawled out from Ben’s arms and jumped off the bed. “You have your own bed.”

She seemed to glance over at her dog bed and then back at me. Her eyes looked absolutely pitiful.

I simply couldn’t resist.

“Fine,” I said. “But sleep _here.”_ I patted the foot of the bed. Frankie jumped back up on the mattress and curled up in a perfect little ball, right by our feet.

“We’re a package deal,” Ben murmured quietly, half asleep. I glanced at him, watched a small, sleepy smile form on his lips. “Frankie and me.”

“She sounds like a congested demon,” I complained.

“You want me, you gotta deal with the snoring dog.”

I chuckled a little and turned off the light before snuggling close to Ben, right where Frankie had been. Ben wrapped his arms around me protectively and kissed my neck.

“I do want you,” I murmured. “I really do.”

Ben smiled against my skin. “You have me.”

~ 🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶🐕🐩🐶~

**A/N:** Y’all…We have reached the end of the Good Girl series. This was me after finishing:

[](https://66.media.tumblr.com/e1d513a6fc34f90d61379a85a9ee1481/191da26a9f13be42-d3/s250x400/4b217fc09a8683ce48ed59d7ffe694f7773ba0dd.jpg)

Seriously, I cannot thank you all enough for coming along with me on this wild ride. I started writing Good Girl back in July and quite literally did not finish until today, which is January 21. Over the course of those six months, I went through a huge number of life changes, which includes but is not limited to: started my senior year of uni, applied to grad school, went through a breakup with my boyfriend of four years, had to tell my ex boyfriend no when he begged me to take him back and got accepted to grad school!! I had to change a lot about Good Girl after the breakup, due to the fact that I was in a completely different headspace at the time of my relationship and I am in a much better place now. Good Girl saw me through all of that, all the highs and lows. The Reader character in Good Girl is so near and dear to my heart because in many ways, she IS me. I projected a lot of my fears and insecurities into her (and not to mention, I modeled her job after me!!!!!). I am so blown away by how many of y’all relate to her emotions and feelings in this story.

So, I bet you’re wondering if it’s time to say goodbye to Good Girl for real. The answer is NO!! I WOULD LOVE LOVE LOVE to continue the GG ‘verse through asks, prompts, headcanons, whatever y’all are looking for! I cannot promise anything big like an epilogue or a sequel, but I would love to imagine more extensions of the Y/N and Ben love story ♡ So feel free to send in asks and requests!!!!

♡

(Also: the photo at the top of this post is my inspo for the final scene of this chapter IM NOT CRYING YOU ARE)

 **It is thanks to the terrific support of you, my readers, who interact with my fanfics with your honest thoughts and genuine reviews, that I am inspired to continue writing. Without these comments, I lose motivation.** I write fanfiction for free (although I accept donations at [https://ko-fi.com/sweetladyy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fsweetladyy&t=OTRhZTEwN2ExNTUzMzE2OGZmODI3N2FlYzU4ZDc5ZDhkYmE2YWEwOCx0VWpac2JNaA%3D%3D&b=t%3A9lHAj1l-jXMRGYg9I1iewg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsweet-ladyy.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F186315628554%2Fgood-girl-part-six&m=1) if you feel so inclined to provide); my only request for payment is a genuine expression of your thoughts ◡̈ So if you decide to write a full-out review, or add your reactions // emotions, or even if it’s just a “wow!” or just a keyboard smash, know that any and all feedback is welcomed with unfettered gratitude and with Blake squealing in excitement behind her computer screen. Thank you in advance! ♡ –Blake

( _Seriously_ , I absolutely love each and every bit of feedback I receive on my works. Please please PLEASE tell me what you liked or want to see differently. Please don’t just reblog without commenting! Thank you thank you thank you!!!!)

Also, please refer to this post I made about sending writers compliments:

> [“Telling a writer that you _need_ the next part/chapter isn’t a compliment.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [Sure, it’s very nice to know our work is being read, and that our readers are looking forward to future parts. But a comment like ‘I need part 2 now!!!!’ on its own has absolutely no substance to us as writers. It’s almost as if you’re completely ignoring all the hard work we put into our writing, the sheer number of hours we toiled away at giving you something worth your while to read.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [If you like something you read, **tell us**. Tell us you liked it, tell us what you liked, tell us why you liked it. _This_ is what motivates us to continue writing.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [In fact, I think I am speaking for most—if not all—writers that we would much prefer a simple ‘I loved this!’ to a comment that says ‘I need more!’ Don’t just demand more with no reason. Give us a reason to keep writing. Don’t be greedy consumers of entertainment. There’s too much of that in the world these days. Instead, I implore you all to be thoughtful and thorough with your comments.”](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> **_✧・ﾟ:*_ **

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☕️ [Buy me a ko-fi? (Donations for my writing!)](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fsweetladyy&t=ZTdjNjk0YzM2NmNjMzc4OTMxZGIxZWM3NGMxM2JkZTFlZjY5YTI3ZCx4NTVUNklCYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A9lHAj1l-jXMRGYg9I1iewg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsweet-ladyy.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184107621278%2Fmatters-of-the-heart-chapter-four&m=1)

**Author's Note:**

> It is thanks to the terrific support of you, my readers, who interact my fanfics with your honest thoughts and genuine reviews, that I am inspired to continue writing. Without these comments, I lose motivation. I write fanfiction for free (although I accept donations at https://ko-fi.com/sweetladyy if you feel so inclined to provide); my only request for payment is a genuine expression of your thoughts ◡̈ So if you decide to write a full-out review, or add your reactions // emotions, or even if it’s just a “wow!” or just a keyboard smash, know that any and all feedback is welcomed with unfettered gratitude and with Blake squealing in excitement behind her computer screen. Thank you in advance! ♡


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